Daughters of the Daughters
by Dreamfantasy13
Summary: It's the Daughters of the Daughters this time, but their fight against the Atrox has been blocked by obstacle after obstacle. The Atrox has targeted one Daughter to join him forever-- the Daughter who despises the Magna Mater. R&R!
1. Strange Changes or Trouble in Paradise

**Second Daughters**

**By Rebecca Patch**

**Chapter One**

**A Strange Stranger**

Strange wasn't necessarily bad. Change wasn't necessarily bad. Strange changes, however, were something else altogether. Strange changes were almost never good. Example: moving from LA to this-town-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-where-the-nearest-mall-is-45-minutes-away. That had been a strange change. At the time, she had been three, and too young to question why. But that didn't mean that 11 years later, that she didn't.

It was just her, and her Dad. Dad was cool, different from the other dads. He let her do pretty much what she wanted—he knew that she could take care of herself. And she knew it, too. And there was always the fact that crime wasn't nearly as high in Grants Pass, Oregon, as it was in LA.

So why had they left LA. She still couldn't understand why. That had been right after Mom died, and she couldn't remember more than the terribly, overwhelming feeling of hopelessness after Mom had died. She couldn't really ask Dad, either, the subject, even 11 years later, was still too painful for him. She knew that Dad would have given his life, a million times over, for Mom to be with them.

There was only one photograph of her mother, besides the one that Dad had thought that she didn't know about—hidden in his sock drawer. The large, framed photo hung above their fireplace, depicting Mom and Dad, at their wedding. Mom, she knew, had been gorgeous. And it was easy to believe, looking at that photograph.

Her mother had been dressed in all white, shimmering and cascading around her, with flowers in her long, brown hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, loosely flowing down her back, with small curls framing her face.

Her eyes were bright green, and seemed to know all of your secrets.

Sometimes, she wished that she looked more like her mother. It wasn't that taking after Dad was bad, or anything, but it would have given her more of a connection with her mother. But it also would have pained Dad, that much she knew.

She sighed. It was quite easy to feel lonely, sometimes. Dad was often away, and she had the nagging suspicion that he would be gone more and more frequently, since that visitor.

The man had been tall, with bleached blonde hair, showing dark roots, and piercing gray eyes. Dad had called him Tymmie, and had sighed when the man had said,

"We've found you, Stanton. You know that you can't hide out here forever. The Atrox needs you back in—

Tymmie had stopped talking abruptly as she had stepped into the room. His eyes had slid over her body, assessingly.

"Who is this?" Tymmie had asked, but she was sure he already knew..

"Tymmie, this is my daughter, Castrata. Castrata, this is Tymmie… we're old friends."

"Real old friends," Tymmie said, grinning at her.

"Right. Dad, do you want coffee in the lounge?"

"Sounds great." Dad had obviously been preoccupied, and had shooed her away when she had arrived with the coffee, saying that 'such matters were not for her ears'. This had amused Tymmie greatly.

That is, until she had glared at him. Something in her piercing blue eyes, so like her father's had scared him.

She had whipped from the room, head held high. That man bothered her. True, he appeared only a few years older than her, but he had to be older, if he and her father were old friends. And there was something creepy about his eyes. They were deep, and gray as the stormy seas, but there was something else. Something that had threatened to pull her under, as the sea pulls the unwary swimmer.

So here she was, alone, she was sure, on the first day of school. God, how she hated school. So boring.

She padded down the stairs, slippers making not a sound on the smooth flooring. Sure enough, there was a note on the breakfast table.

_Dearest Castrata,_

_I am away, as you have probably realized by now. I am sorry to leave so unexpectedly, but something has come up. I hope that you have an excellent first day of school. I should be home by dinner. Lucy is making your favorite for breakfast—smoothies. Money for lunch—go wherever, I left plenty—is on the counter. _

_I want you to know how proud I am of you. You're growing up into a wonderful person, Castrata. Just like your mother._

_Oh, and if you could do one thing for me? Wear your mother's necklace today. She'd want you to wear it. _

_I love you my dear. You are enrolled under 'Catundra', as previously requested._

_Love,_

_Dad_

She snorted. 'Wear your mother's necklace'? Like Dad even had to say that. She wore the moon charm, hanging on its silver chain, always. It made her feel as if Mom was with her. Comforting, forgiving, safe.

Catundra? No, she hadn't asked to be enrolled under the name Catundra. That, had been a joke. A joke from when she was six, and got her name, Castrata, mixed up with the name Catundra. She had been called Catundra then, and had asked to be called Catundra always.

So, last summer, when her father had insisted that she go to a public high school, instead of remaining at home with a private tutor, she had joked, "why don't you enroll me under the name Catundra, like I always wanted?"

Obviously, he had missed the joke.

She returned to her bedroom, and rifled through her clothes. There was absolutely nothing to wear. How could this happen? A closet full of clothes, and nothing to wear. Story of her life.

She finally settled on a pair of hip-huggers and a matching, light blue jean jacket.

She brushed out her long blonde hair, and picked it up into a ponytail. Her piercing blue eyes, mirror images of her father's, stared back at her in the mirror.

She grinned, slightly, and returned downstairs, eager for Lucy, their housekeeper, and her fantabulous smoothies.

She gulped down a strawberry smoothie, grabbed her denim purse, pulled on some tennis shoes, grabbed the keys to her car, and hit the road.

She loved her car. She had gotten her license only a month ago, having turned sixteen June 13. Her black, convertible was seriously hot.

She pulled into a lot outside of North Valley High School, and hopped out. Time to face the crowds. Who were going to think that her name was Catundra. Great. Of course, Catundra was a slight improvement on the 'you-will-never-meet-another-person-named-the-same-name-as-me' scale, over Castrata.

What she had to do was think of a nickname. Something nice, something normal, something boring. Like Brittany, because, seriously, there are sooo many 'Brittany's'.

Or, she could say that she went by her middle name. Well, she wouldn't go by her normal middle name, her mother's name, because Serena was sort of weird too.

What she needed was a nice, normal, boring name. Hmm… she listed names in her head. She didn't know very many people, and the only females she could think of where her mother, Lucy, and Mary, who did the house's landscaping. None of those names were going to work.

Suddenly, a memory returned to her. Her mother, speaking softly, telling her a story. "We were best friends, the five of us. Me, Jimena, Catty, Tianna, and Vanessa."

Vanessa! That was a good name! Not too exotic, but not too boring. Vanessa it would be.

"Killingsworth, Catundra." She told the lady in the office, who handed her a schedule.

The day passed in a blur, thank God. School here in Grants Pass seemed no different from school at home, with her tutor. Except that her tutor noticed when she grew bored and tuned out. These teachers didn't.

She drove home, thoroughly glad that school was over. Maybe Dad would be home.

Somebody was home, but it wasn't Dad. Quietly, she parked, and opened the door. A woman stood, with her back to Castrata. She had long, luscious black hair. From the back, she appeared to be around thirty.

Castrata shut the door, and waited.

The woman didn't move.

"May I help you?" Castrata asked, her tone like ice.

The woman nodded, without turning. "Come here," she said, in a voice that broke no argument. A voice that expected obedience, rather like her father's.

Castrata obeyed… very slowly. The woman had tattoos near her eyes, like teardrops. She had sad eyes. "Yes?" Castrata demanded. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled, a sad smile. "So like your mother." She whispered. "Serena had fire, too."

"Who are you?" Castrata hissed.

"Jimena… Jimena, Castillo." There was a small break in the woman's voice.

"What are you doing here?" Castrata whispered, she had recognized the woman's name. Her hand gripped on her moon charm. "Do you want Dad?"

Jimena's eyes narrowed. "What is your father's name?"

Castrata glared at her. "Why should I tell you? You won't even tell me what you're doing here."

"What is your father's name?" The woman's voice was chipped ice.

"Stanton…" Castrata trailed off, the woman was glaring into space, eyes full of more hatred than Castrata had thought possible in a human. "What do you want with him?" She asked, fearfully.

"Nothing." Jimena said forcefully, "I want nothing to do with Stanton!"

Castrata backed up. "Maybe you should go."

"No. I have to tell you something."

"What? That you hate my father? I already know that, it's obvious."

"No." Jimena whispered. "You must come back to LA."

"What?" Castrata almost laughed. "Come back to LA? Why?"

"The other Daughters need you."

"Daughters?"

"The other Daughters of the Moon."

"You aren't making sense." Castrata frowned. The phrase was somehow familiar, but somehow, it gave her a sense of foreboding, as well as comfort.

A car pulled into the drive. Dad was home.

"Dad's home, you can talk to him."

Jimena's eyes widened. "No. I'm leaving." Jimena slipped out the back door, and vanished. Castrata watched her start a car up, soundlessly, and the car drove away.

The front door opened. "How was your day, honey?" Dad asked.

"Oh… my day? Um… my day? Fine… it was fine." Castrata said, distractedly.

Dad frowned. "Are you okay, Castrata?"

"What? Me…? Fine… I'm fine." Castrata whispered.

"What are you thinking about?" Dad asked, his voice growing into a mixture of worry and anger. She stared at him.

He stared back. Those blue eyes, so like her own, drilled into her mind. She felt as though he knew everything she had ever done.

"Who was here?" Dad asked, his voice dangerously soft.

"Um… just a lady. I think she was selling something. She was definitely on something." Castrata laughed. There. She had told the truth… or at least part of it.

Her father just looked at her.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"What are the Daughters of the Moon?" Castrata asked.

Her father sat down on the couch, heavily. "Why do you want to know?" His voice was something she couldn't identify. He was… scared?

"I just… remembered the words, and they seemed comforting, yet scary. They were so familiar, and I… I wondered if you knew what they mean."

"Yes," Dad said, as if remembering something far into his past. "Yes, I know what that means."

"What?"

Dad sighed. "I guess its time to tell you, Castrata. You're old enough."

Castrata was silent. She could tell that this was going to be important.

"You've read mythology, Castrata?" Castrata nodded. Mythology was one of the only aspects of school that hadn't bored her. "Do you remember the myth of Pandora? Tell me what you remember."

"Pandora was beautiful, inside and out, but one of the gods—I don't remember which—wanted to tempt her. He gave her millions of things, but said, out of all of them, to be sure not to open one thing. A box.

"Now, Pandora was extremely curious. And instead of obeying, she opened the box, releasing countless evils into the world. Plague, wars, famine… uncountable evils. But the last thing out of the box was hope."

Dad nodded. "Here's the rest of the story, that very few people know. Something else, lurking hidden, near the box, was the Atrox."

Castrata stirred. Hadn't Tymmie mentioned an Atrox?

"Only Selene, goddess of the moon, saw the evil thing, the Atrox, lurking near the box. The Atrox devours hope, the one thing that keeps people alive through the bad times."

"Why?" Castrata said, "Why would anyone want to do that?"

"The Atrox wants to rule the world, I suppose you could say. But anyway, back to my story:

"Only Selene knew what the monster was, what it would do. She took pity on the Earth-dwellers, and gave them her Daughters, committed to fighting, to helping keep hope alive. They are powerful and beautiful, yet mortal.

"The Atrox has many servants, known as Followers. The Followers steal hope. They have none of their own, so they steal others, hoping to quench their terrible thirst. But nothing helps. The Followers can read and manipulate the minds of their prey. The Daughters job is to keep people from them. Or one of their jobs, anyways.

"Your mother was a Daughter. That's her amulet that you're wearing."

Castrata gripped her amulet.

"Serena could read minds—a telepath. Her power was similar to that of the Followers, so she was important. She was known as the Key. Whichever side had her had the advantage."

"Did Mom kill all the Followers?" Castrata asked, leaning against her father, and wishing she were six again.

Dad laughed softly. "And here I was, a Follower—

"You were a Follower?" Castrata asked, fearfully, jumping to her feet.

Her father laughed, humorlessly. "I was. I was what was known as an _invitus_—one who had been turned to the Atrox without a choice. I fell in love with Serena, and she with me. But our love was forbidden. We were in danger all the time.

"Serena saved me from the Atrox, but I was forced to return, in order to save her life. I was no longer an _invitus_. I became the Prince of the Night, the most powerful Follower, second only to the Atrox itself.

"Serena and I were allowed to be together. I promised myself that nothing would ever separate us."

"Then how did she die?" Castrata demanded, sitting down again.

"She was seventeen, and it was time for the metamorphosis. When a Daughter turns seventeen, they have a choice. They can forget everything about being a Daughter, or they can become some sort of guardian spirit.

"Serena, however, had a third choice. She could become a Goddess of Darkness, like Hekate. She had told her fellow Daughters this, but they thought of this as turning to the Atrox."

"But Hekate's good!" Castrata frowned.

"The Daughters didn't realize this. They thought that Serena was betraying them. They gave her no chance to explain."

"That was stupid of them."

Her father nodded. He had a tight, sad look on his face.

"It was the night before she turned seventeen. You were barely a month old—

"Hang on, I though Mom died when I was three."

He shook his head. "You were barely a month old. But anyways, she would turn seventeen the next day, and it was barely hours until morning.

"The Daughters knew that it was better to have a dead Daughter, than let her cross over. There was a huge attack of Followers that night. Serena was fighting against them. One was becoming too much for her.

"She called for her best friend, Jimena Castillo, to help her. Jimena didn't turn. Serena pleaded. Jimena and the other Daughters turned, and…" Her father broke off, his voice shaking.

"It's okay, Dad." Castrata said, wiping away her tears, so her father couldn't see.

"No, you have to know. The Daughter turned, and… and helped the Follower kill her! In essence, they killed her. That Follower didn't have the power to kill her—but they did. They killed their friend. Without giving her a chance to explain, they murdered her."

They sat like that for a couple of minutes.

Suddenly her father said, "That is why we left LA. But now, I have to go back."

"What?"

"We're moving, Castrata. Back to LA, where your mother died."

Castrata thought of Jimena. "No, we can't!"

Dad sighed. "I know. I don't want to, but the Atrox has ordered me back. There are new Daughters to destroy."

"Why do you listen, Dad? Why? Does it have that much power over you? And why haven't you turned me? You said its possible to make someone an _invitus_. Why didn't you do that to me?"

"The Atrox doesn't order me very much, it doesn't have enough power, since it was returned to shadow form. But when it does order me, it is very powerful. I have to obey. As for turning you… the Atrox doesn't know you exist. None of the Followers did, until Tymmie saw you last night. But I couldn't turn you… you don't deserve that kind of life—without hope. No one does. I couldn't. I can't."

"Thanks, Dad. But what about the Daughters? You're just going to destroy them?"

"Not me."

"Can't you stop it? They didn't kill Mom."

Her father set his jaw. "I can't do anything. If they're smart enough, they'll learn how to survive. In the meantime, promise me you won't talk to them. Don't associate with them."

"How will I know them?"

"They'll wear that amulet, the amulet of Selene." He gestured to her charm.

"Dad, I can't promise not to talk to them—you know that, right? After all, we share a common interest." She held up her amulet.

Her father stared at her. "You mean that you—

"I mean that I won't help you. I will not join the fight against hope. I will do anything I can to prevent it. You've known all along."

"You're a Daughter…" Dad whispered. "I hadn't thought of that."

Castrata waved his comment away. "You don't have to be a Daughter to fight for hope, Dad."

He smiled, thinly. "You're so like your mother. No, I'll keep you out of it. However, Followers like Tymmie will occasionally come around the house. You are to be polite, but firm. Don't talk to them unless they speak to you first. Most will be part of the Inner Circle. They're far more powerful than you."

"Duh. I don't have powers!" Castrata grinned.

Dad smiled, thinly. "Well, yes… but… well, never mind. Just behave like you did with Tymmie."

"Right. Glare at them. It freaks them out."

Her father smiled, for real this time.

"Right."

"Oh, and Dad?"

"Yes?"

"When you enroll me at my new school, my normal name will do."

He grinned, boyishly. "What? You didn't like being called Catundra?"

"Actually, no." Castrata decided against telling him that she had gone by 'Vanessa' all day long. "Oh, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Am I actually sixteen? If I wasn't three when mom dies?"

"Er—no. You're fifteen."

"Am I still allowed to drive?"

Dad grinned. "I think we can manage that."

Chapter Two 

**ASYETUNTITLED**

_The first day of school—again, _Castrata thought, as she pulled into a space in the La Brea High parking lot. She allowed her purse to go through the metal detector. Today, she was wearing a white peasant skirt, a pale blue shirt, and her jean jacket. Her hair was pulled into its ponytail, and she wore no jewelry, but for her amulet. Her mother's amulet.

"Larhk, Castrata." She told the lady at the front desk. She no longer went by Serena's maiden name—Dad had thought up a new one. Although it was spelled strangely, it was pronounced 'Lark'.

The lady gave her a schedule. "Do you need help finding your way?" she asked.

"Yeah," Castrata admitted.

The lady looked around. "Janie can help you." She turned, and called to a girl with twinkling brown eyes, dark brown curls, and a mischievous smile. "Janie—over here!"

The girl—Janie—walked over. "Yes?" She asked, her dancing eyes taking in Castrata and the lady. She frowned slightly, but her smile returned almost immediately. "How can I be of service, Mrs. Delan?"

Mrs. Delan smiled. "We have another new student, Janie. She needs to know where to go."

Janie grinned. "Sure thing, Mrs. Delan." She took my schedule, and beckoned to me. Mrs. Delan returned to her office.

"Let's see… Castrata Larhk… interesting name… Castrata. I like it. You don't here many Castrata's."

"Most people call me Katherine." I said, naming the name that my father and I had agreed on. A nice, normal name.

"Sure thing. Katherine. Kitty. Kitty, I think. As you already know, I'm Janie. Actually, it's Jadyn, Jadyn Turner."

"You don't see many Jadyn's."

"Nope. So, remember, its Janie. Most people don't know my name is Jadyn."

"Right." Castrata smiled at her. Janie just seemed so friendly.

"Okay, your first class is Drama, with Canasil. She's okay, as long as you're on time, and pay attention. (fat chance, Castrata thought) It'll be fine, I have Canasil first period too."

Janie showed me my locker. As I twirled the combo—13-15-13—two more girls approached. They were both beautiful. One had dark hair and blue eyes, the other, red hair and blue eyes.

"Kitty, meet my two best friends: Ariana and Tanya. Ariana," she motioned towards the girl with dark hair, "Tanya", the girl with red hair, "meet my new friend, Katherine. Kitty, actually. She's new here at La Brea."

"Hey." Ariana said, grinning. "Welcome."

Tanya smiled, "Hope you," she wrinkled her nose, "like it here."

The three of them, Janie, Tanya, and Ariana burst into laughter.

"Don't pay attention to Tanya," Ariana said, between laughs, "she loves school. She's just a jokester."

Tanya grinned at Castrata. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."

This sent all of them, including Castrata, into peals of laughter. "Should we get to class?" Castrata asked, when she could catch her breath.

"Yep," Janie said, grinning.

By the end of the day, if someone had asked Janie to introduce her friends, she would have said, "These are my _three _best friends: Ariana, Tanya, and Kitty."

Castrata had never felt so good, never had so much fun at school. She had never had such good friends before. She had never _had_ friends before. Plus, she had some really interesting classes: Drama (which had turned out to be fun), Band (apparently, she could play a flute—who knew?), and, her favorite: Mythology.

She had Drama with Janie, and Band with Ariana, and Mythology with all three of them. She had Trigonometry with Tanya, and English with Janie. History was with Tanya, and her last class, Science, was with Ariana.

She left school in an awesome mood.

"How was school?" Dad asked, as soon as Castrata walked through the front door.

"Great!" Castrata beamed, "I've never had so much fun!"

"Did you make some friends?"

"Yes! Three great, new friends. Ariana, Tanya, and Janie."

"Why don't you invite them over this weekend?" Her father suggested, and turned back to his paperwork. Wait… her father? Paperwork?

"What are you doing, Dad?" Castrata asked, leaning over her father's shoulder. He covered the papers before she could see.

"Nothing that concerns you." Dad answered, in a hard, brittle, angry voice.

Castrata drew back, stung. Her father had never spoken like that to her before.

"Okay," Castrata said, in a small voice. "I'm going to my room now."

Her father sighed. "I'm sorry, Castrata. I'm just stressed. There are some important people who are going to be here in ten minutes. Why don't you change, so you can serve them some teacakes, when they arrive?"

Castrata raised an eyebrow. "Teacakes?"

Her father nodded.

"What do you want me to wear?"

"Something showy," her father muttered, almost too softly for Castrata to hear.

"Right. Impressive. Whatever you say, Dad."

Her father smiled.

Castrata skipped upstairs. Visitors, huh? _Teacakes, my foot, _Castrata thought, _I'd bet almost anything that what they want aren't teacakes. Hmm… _an idea had suddenly occurred to her. _I bet they aren't teacakes._ They weren't.

Castrata pulled on a skirt that reached down to mid-thigh. One that was appropriate for school, but showy. She pulled on a black spaghetti strap shirt that was the same shade of midnight black as her skirt. She grabbed spiky black sandals and poked long, dangling hoops through her earring holes.

On impulse, she applied mascara, and dark eye shadow, something that she normally didn't bother with. She let her blonde hair hang, slightly in front of her eyes, giving her a mysterious look. Finally, on impulse, she removed her moon amulet. Something told her that it wasn't safe to wear it, not in front of Followers.

The doorbell rang, and Lucy opened the door. Judging by the sound of their footsteps, Castrata guessed that there were now five more people in their house. Five Followers.


	2. Family Traits Follower Traits

_The first day of school—again, _Castrata thought, as she pulled into a space in the La Brea High parking lot. She allowed her purse to go through the metal detector. Today, she was wearing a white peasant skirt, a pale blue shirt, and her jean jacket. Her hair was pulled into its ponytail, and she wore no jewelry, but for her amulet. Her mother's amulet.

"Larhk, Castrata." She told the lady at the front desk. She no longer went by Serena's maiden name—Dad had thought up a new one. Although it was spelled strangely, it was pronounced 'Lark'.

The lady gave her a schedule. "Do you need help finding your way?" she asked.

"Yeah," Castrata admitted.

The lady looked around. "Janie can help you." She turned, and called to a girl with twinkling brown eyes, dark brown curls, and a mischievous smile. "Janie—over here!"

The girl—Janie—walked over. "Yes?" She asked, her dancing eyes taking in Castrata and the lady. She frowned slightly, but her smile returned almost immediately. "How can I be of service, Mrs. Delan?"

Mrs. Delan smiled. "We have another new student, Janie. She needs to know where to go."

Janie grinned. "Sure thing, Mrs. Delan." She took my schedule, and beckoned to me. Mrs. Delan returned to her office.

"Let's see… Castrata Larhk… interesting name… Castrata. I like it. You don't here many Castrata's."

"Most people call me Katherine." I said, naming the name that my father and I had agreed on. A nice, normal name.

"Sure thing. Katherine. Kitty. Kitty, I think. As you already know, I'm Janie. Actually, it's Jadyn, Jadyn Turner."

"You don't see many Jadyn's."

"Nope. So, remember, its Janie. Most people don't know my name is Jadyn."

"Right." Castrata smiled at her. Janie just seemed so friendly.

"Okay, your first class is Drama, with Canasil. She's okay, as long as you're on time, and pay attention. (fat chance, Castrata thought) It'll be fine, I have Canasil first period too."

Janie showed me my locker. As I twirled the combo—13-15-13—two more girls approached. They were both beautiful. One had dark hair and blue eyes, the other, red hair and blue eyes.

"Kitty, meet my two best friends: Ariana and Tanya. Ariana," she motioned towards the girl with dark hair, "Tanya", the girl with red hair, "meet my new friend, Katherine. Kitty, actually. She's new here at La Brea."

"Hey." Ariana said, grinning. "Welcome."

Tanya smiled, "Hope you," she wrinkled her nose, "like it here."

The three of them, Janie, Tanya, and Ariana burst into laughter.

"Don't pay attention to Tanya," Ariana said, between laughs, "she loves school. She's just a jokester."

Tanya grinned at Castrata. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."

This sent all of them, including Castrata, into peals of laughter. "Should we get to class?" Castrata asked, when she could catch her breath.

"Yep," Janie said, grinning.

By the end of the day, if someone had asked Janie to introduce her friends, she would have said, "These are my _three _best friends: Ariana, Tanya, and Kitty."

Castrata had never felt so good, never had so much fun at school. She had never had such good friends before. She had never _had_ friends before. Plus, she had some really interesting classes: Drama (which had turned out to be fun), Band (apparently, she could play a flute—who knew?), and, her favorite: Mythology.

She had Drama with Janie, and Band with Ariana, and Mythology with all three of them. She had Trigonometry with Tanya, and English with Janie. History was with Tanya, and her last class, Science, was with Ariana.

She left school in an awesome mood.

"How was school?" Dad asked, as soon as Castrata walked through the front door.

"Great!" Castrata beamed, "I've never had so much fun!"

"Did you make some friends?"

"Yes! Three great, new friends. Ariana, Tanya, and Janie."

"Great" Her father said, and turned back to his paperwork. Wait… her father? Paperwork?

"What are you doing, Dad?" Castrata asked, leaning over her father's shoulder. He covered the papers before she could see.

"Nothing that concerns you." Dad answered, in a hard, brittle, angry voice.

Castrata drew back, stung. Her father had never spoken like that to her before.

"Okay," Castrata said, in a small voice. "I'm going to my room now."

Her father sighed. "I'm sorry, Castrata. I'm just stressed. There are some important people who are going to be here in ten minutes. Why don't you change, so you can serve them some teacakes, when they arrive?"

Castrata raised an eyebrow. "Teacakes?"

Her father nodded.

"What do you want me to wear?"

"Something showy," her father muttered, almost too softly for Castrata to hear.

"Right. Impressive. Whatever you say, Dad."

Her father smiled.

Castrata skipped upstairs. Visitors, huh? _Teacakes, my foot, _Castrata thought, _I'd bet almost anything that what they want aren't teacakes. Hmm… _an idea had suddenly occurred to her. _I bet they aren't teacakes._ They weren't.

Castrata reached for a mid-thigh length skirt. One that was appropriate for school, but showy. She was about to put it on, when she caught sight of a pair of baggy black pants. Impulsively, she pulled on the pants, which she paired with a midnight black spaghetti strap top. She grabbed black tennis shoes and poked long, dangling hoops through her earring holes.

On impulse, she applied mascara, and dark eye shadow, something that she normally didn't bother with. She let her blonde hair hang, slightly in front of her eyes, giving her a mysterious look. Finally, on impulse, she removed her moon amulet. Something told her that it wasn't safe to wear it, not in front of Followers.

The doorbell rang, and Lucy opened the door. Judging by the sound of their footsteps, Castrata guessed that there were now five more people in their house. Five Followers. Great. Halleluiah.

She walked down the stairs, stealthily a cat, stirring not even the air as she passed. As she had guessed, her father and guests were in the lounge. She grabbed a plate of "teacakes" and hesitated slightly, before deciding not to knock.

The six people inside, lounging comfortably in chairs, jumped to their feet as she entered, casting quick glances around. She saw her father, sitting in, she noticed, the only seat easily viewed by all of the other chairs. Her father's eyes appraised her clothing, before catching her eyes, and giving her an almost imperceptible nod.

Castrata also recognized Tymmie, although he had re-dyed his hair to its original color. She noted that he looked a lot hotter like that, before she caught herself. These people were evil!

There were four other people in the room, and only one was female. She had maroon hair, and fierce eyes. The scar "STA" stood out white on her chest. Castrata's eyes passed over her—knowing that the female would immediately assume that Castrata had dismissed her as unimportant, which, in a way, Castrata had. She knew, somehow, that she could handle the female. And, if Castrata was correct, "STA" stood for "STANTON"—her father's name. Which meant that the lady was either extremely weird, or extremely obsessed. Castrata suspected the latter.

Castrata recognized none of the three other males, though she sensed that the middle one was the most dangerous, with his secret smile, and dark hair. The kind of person who would be a heartthrob the minute he walked through the doors of La Brea High. He looked to be about 18. The other two, one with green hair, half shaved off, and the other with disgustingly greasy dreadlocks, appeared slightly uncertain.

This was the 'important visitors'? The Dangerous One, as well as Tymmie, could easily be important, she could somehow sense that they were extremely powerful. But the lady, who might have been powerful, and the two men, were no match for her. Or her father. That much, she knew.

Tymmie was looking at her in the same appraising way that her father was. Through the long bangs hanging in her eyes, Castrata gave him her "piercing glare". He froze. She turned to the Dangerous One. She casually flipped her hair from her eyes, and turned her intense stare on him. At first, he appeared to attempt to stare back, but something in her eyes made him back down. She smirked. This was fun.

"Gentleman, Cassandra," Her father inclined his head at the maroon-haired lady, "This is my daughter, Castrata. Castrata—this is Tymmie, whom you already know," he pointed to Tymmie, "Cassandra," he gestured towards the maroon-haired lady, "Zahi," the Dangerous One, who replied with a smile that would have melted any female heart. Except hers. She didn't give a care about his smile. "Liam," the dude with green hair looked slightly shocked, as if that wasn't his name, "and Jake." The dreadlock dude.

"She looks strikingly like you," Zahi remarked.

Her father shrugged, "Yes, the family resemblance is strong." Castrata suddenly knew why he had wanted her to come here. She created a distraction, and now, her father had an upper hand.

"I brought you some "refreshments"," Castrata smirked.

Zahi frowned. "Strikingly like you. I assume that you have turned her?" He did not seem to expect an answer. Castrata suddenly felt something in her mind. Him. Okay, this she did not like. MY PRIVACY! MINE! Grr….

Instinctively, Castrata threw up barriers around her mind, focusing instead on a blank, white surface. White, white…. white…!

Zahi frowned, and attempted a "forced entry". It didn't work. Castrata glared at him, strengthening her barrier. At last, Zahi slumped back in his chair.

"Powerful," he said, his eyes half-closed lazily. "Very good, Stanton."

Her father smiled, but Castrata noticed his quick glance in her direction.

Tymmie's eyes never left her's.

"Thanks, Dad, but I got to go," Castrata smiled wickedly, "Things to _do_, if you know what I mean." She threw a saucy smile over her shoulder, as she strode to the door. She could feel Tymmie's eyes on her as she left. What a creep.

Since she had nothing to do, she did her homework.

Suddenly her cell phone rang. "Hey girlie! It's Janie!" Sang Janie's mischievous voice. "Listen, Tanya, Ariana, and I are hitting the mall. What say you? Want to come?"

"Yeah, sounds awesome!" Castrata grinned. Anything to leave.


	3. Three Vanessa Clones

Castrata's days found a regular pattern, and she soon found herself enjoying her life. Her friends were awesome, school was fun, and she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

She saw less and less of her father, but that bothered her less than it normally would have. Followers occasionally came to her house, and she always gave them the "Castrata/Stanton look" as she called it. The all black, hair in the eyes, piercing stare that seemed to freak so many of them out. Especially when they couldn't get into her mind.

A week or two passed, before Ariana had met her after school. Janie was rehearsing for the latest school play, and Tanya was a stagehand.

"So, you going to Planet Bang?" Ariana asked, as they headed towards Castrata's car.

"Planet what?"

"Planet Bang." Ariana stared at her, "Oh, that's right, I forgot you didn't know. Everybody goes to Planet Bang on Tuesdays and Fridays—that's the only night kids under 18 are allowed. It's sort of a club, dancing, music, drinking, you know.

"Janie, Tanya, and I like to go and check out the guys… it's fun! Come on, you have to go…" Ariana wheedled.

"But… but I don't have anything to wear!" Castrata said, halfheartedly.

"Tell you what. Come to my house around 6. You can have dinner with us, and you can wear something of mine."

"But, my dad…"

"Will let you come. He's from LA, he knows. He'll let you come."

Castrata had to agree there. _Besides, _she thought, _he's too busy to know what I'm doing anyways._

But her father had other plans for that night. "We're having company," he told her, "I want you to serve refreshments."

He said this every time new Followers were coming.

This time, Castrata snapped. "What if I don't want to?" She whispered, in a hard, icy voice.

Her father stared at her. "You will."

"No, I don't think so. I'm tired of being your showgirl. 'This is my daughter'. Whatever! I'm just the diversion, the distraction, so that you can gain the upper hand! I refuse! I told you, I have other things planned for tonight!"

And with that, she stomped up the stairs.

Her father followed. "What's gotten into you, Castrata? I didn't think you minded."

Castrata instantly felt ashamed. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I just don't like being told to do something."

Her father was silent.

"Okay, I'll serve refreshments, but then I have to go, okay?"

"Okay," her father agreed.

The doorbell rang.

"They're here."

Castrata pulled on her baggy black pants, tight shirt, hoop earrings, tennis shoes, dark makeup, and pulled her hair from its ponytail, flinging it in front of her eyes.

After serving the refreshments, she hopped into the car.

She arrived at Ariana's house, still wearing her 'Stanton' clothes.

Ariana's eyebrows went up at the sight of her.

"Don't ask," Castrata mumbled. "My dad had guests over… I had to dress this way."

Ariana grinned. "I know what you mean. I have to get out my 'Angel' clothes when my parents have friends over. Come one, you can change for dinner."

Castrata gratefully pulled on some jeans. She pulled her hair back, and washed the dark makeup from her eyes. She left the t-shirt and hoops—they weren't that bad, she supposed.

Dinner was a typical affair.

"Daughter, introduce us to your friend." Ariana's father had said, as she sat down for dinner. Castrata knew that he knew who she was—for one thing, there was a place setting at the table for her, for another, he wasn't asking who she was. She wondered why there was still another empty place. Maybe Tanya or Janie were coming.

"Dad and Mom, this is Katherine Larhk. Kitty, my mom and dad."

"Pleased to meet you…?" Castrata realized she didn't know Ariana's last name.

"Saratoga. But please, my name is Vanessa. This is my husband, Michael."

"So, tell me, Katherine," Ariana's father said to her, as he placed a forkful of broccoli in his mouth, "where are you from, again?"

"Grants Pass, Oregon."

"And how did you meet Ariasti?" Her mother asked, regarding Castrata with the same penetrating blue-eyed stare as her daughter.

"Ariasti?" Castrata asked. "Do you mean Ariana?" It seemed odd to her that a parent could forget their child's name.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Ariast—er, Ariana." Vanessa, Mrs. Saratoga, shot her daughter an apologetic look. Ariana blushed. Someone was going to have a lot of explaining to do, Castrata thought.

Suddenly, the screen door banged open, and a tall, blonde boy walked in. His eyes were blue, flecked with green, and he was dressed for the beach.

"You're late," Vanessa said, sternly.

"Sorry," the boy sat down at the empty place, and began to shovel piles of food onto his plate. Suddenly, he realized that there was another person sitting at the table.

The boy jumped up, knocking over his chair. He was staring at her.

"Daniel, where are your manners?" Vanessa asked, sternly.

"Erm, sorry." Daniel muttered. He picked up his chair and sat down again.

"That's my big brother, Daniel." Ariana whispered. "He's seventeen, a surfer, and one of the most popular boys at school. Get on his good side, and you're in."

"What?" Castrata asked.

"Daniel, this is my friend, Katherine. Kitty, Daniel." And with that, Ariana went back to her mashed potatoes.

Daniel was still staring at her. Castrata blushed. What was it with this guy? One look from him, and she went all weak-kneed. She, who could keep her cool as she did mind-battles with Followers, couldn't even say hi to her friend's big brother?

The interrogation continued. "What kind of grades are you getting?" Michael Saratoga asked her.

"A's," Castrata replied, honestly.

"Favorite class?" Vanessa asked.

"Mythology!" Ariana and Castrata said, at the same time, grinning at each other.

"Policy about driving and drinking?" Michael asked.

Castrata wrinkled her nose. "Okay, number one: I hate booze. It smells. Number two: I am not a boyfriend of Ariana's, so I don't really need the interrogation. Number three: what does mythology have anything to do with drunk driving?"

Vanessa and Michael exchanged embarrassed glances.

Daniel, however, began to clap. "You tell 'em!" He said, through a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"Daniel!" Vanessa and Ariana admonished with identical shocked expressions.

They all began to laugh. Castrata toyed with her moon amulet.

Vanessa stopped laughing, abruptly, as she stared at the amulet.

"Ariana, Daniel, you may begin the dishes." Ariana and Daniel groaned in unison.

Castrata began to follow them into the kitchen, but Vanessa stopped her. "Katherine…" she said, slowly, "who are your parents?"

Castrata frowned. She didn't see what this had to do with anything. "Stanton and Serena Killingsworth," she said, before remembering that her last name was Larhk. "Err, Larhk."

"What?"

"Stanton and Serena Larhk."

Vanessa's eyes never left Castrata's face. "I…" she trailed off, eyes wide. Suddenly, she seemed to come to herself. "Well, I hope you have fun with Ariana and Daniel—

"Daniel?"

"Didn't I tell you? He's going too. He's driving."

Castrata nodded, vaguely. "Thanks, Mrs. Saratoga."

"Vanessa."

Castrata grinned. "Thanks, Vanessa."

Ariana was soon done with the dishes.

"Let's go pick out some clothes," she said, grinning.

As Castrata rummaged through Ariana's closet, she asked, "Ariana, why did your mom call you Ariasti?"

There was no answer.

"Ariana?" Castrata turned around. Ariana was just standing there, staring at her hands. "What?"

"It's my name." Ariana, or should we say, Ariasti, replied, "Ariasti's my name."

"What?"

"My name is Ariasti." Ariasti stated, looking away. "You can make fun of me now."

"Why would I make fun of you?" Castrata demanded, "Ariasti's a cool name. Certainly better than Castrata."

"What?"

"Oops. Well, I suppose you'd better know, too. My real name's Castrata."

Ariasti grinned. "Aren't we the pair of odd names?" She asked.

"No kidding."

The door banged open. Janie and Tanya entered. "Not to mention our names," Janie said, cheerfully.

"Totally," Ariasti agreed.

"But Tanya's a pretty normal name," Castrata remarked.

"But Lanya isn't," Lanya grinned.

"Ariasti, Lanya, Jadyn, and Castrata." Janie, or Jadyn, recited. "We certainly are a trio."

"But there's four of us." Lanya reminded her.

"Oh, then a quartet, or whatever its called," Jadyn grinned. "Now, what are we going to wear?" She strode to Ariasti's closet, and rummaged through the clothing.

Half and hour later, they were dressed and ready to go.

"Lanya Moore, reporting for duty!" Lanya said, saluting the wall. She was dressed in a deep purple halter-top and tight jean capris. She was wearing straw sandals, a silver necklace with a flower charm on it, and flower earrings. Her red hair was loose down her back, and her blue eyes sparkled. She looked gorgeous. But, then again, Castrata supposed that Lanya would look gorgeous in a burlap sack.

"Ariasti Saratoga, reporting for duty!" Ari copied Lanya's salute. She was dressed in a pale blue spaghetti strap, and a short jean skirt. She too, wore straw sandals, as well as a silver heart charm on a chain. She wore light mascara, gloss, and sparkles around her eyes, creating the look of a modern goddess. Sensually innocent.

"Jadyn Turner," Jadyn grinned, "I don't report to anyone!" Her dark hair was curled all over the place. She wore gold and green eye shadow, dark mascara, gloss, and sparkles. Her evening attire consisted of a short, purple and black schoolgirl skirt, black fishnet, combat boots, fishnet over her arms, and a black tee shirt with a skull and crossbones on it. She wore a fake nose piercing—her mother wouldn't let her get one till she turned sixteen—as well as a multitude of earrings, and a star charm on her necklace. Fake red streaks dotted her hair—and she looked ready to party.

"Castrata Larhk, reporting for inspection." Castrata had decided on a short, swishy black skirt, which she wore with a deep purple halter, similar to Lanya's, which Ari thought made her eyes appear violet. She wore purple mascara, liner, and shadow, just for the fun of it, and, on impulse added purple lipstick and sparkles. She had curled her hair around her shoulders, and little amethysts sparkled in her ears. And, of course, she wore her moon amulet. She was ready to rock.

They walked downstairs. "Let's report to Mom!" Ariasti said, and they trooped into the living room.

"Ariasti Saratoga, reporting for inspection." Ariasti said, bowing at her mother.

"Lanya Moore. Same reason."

"Jadyn Turner. Same reason."

"Castrata Larhk. Reasons unrevealed."

This provoked quite a laugh, as Vanessa looked them over. "You look great, girls." She said, finally.

"Uh-oh! Mom likes it! Time to change!" Ari kidded.

"Is Daniel ready _yet_?" Jadyn asked. "That boy is sooo slow."

"He should be down in a minute," Vanessa replied, flipping on the TV. It took more like ten. Finally, the girls decided to pile into his car, and wait for him.

He finally arrived. "Sorry," he apologized, "Sarah was going ballistic."

"Sarah?" Castrata asked Ariasti.

Ari rolled her eyes. "His ex-girlfriend. She was pathetic. She broke up with him, and now she wants him back." Ari rolled her eyes again. "I don't see why he didn't break up with her in the first place."

"Because I didn't want to hurt her," Daniel said, from the front seat. "I can hear everything you're saying, remember?"

"Right." Ari said, unconcernedly.

They arrived at Planet Bang around 8. "Time to party!" Jadyn squealed.

"Out, ladies." Daniel ordered, opening the door for them. He froze when he saw Castrata. "What happened to what you where wearing?"

"I changed." Castrata said.

"Yeah, but… well, you look… different."

"Yeah, I do." Castrata nodded.

"Hey lover boy!" Ari yelled, "Stop flirting with my friend, and come on! We want to get in sometime tonight!"

Daniel nodded at her. "You look nice, that's all." He said in an undertone to Castrata.

Castrata couldn't explain the wave of pleasure that swept over her.

Dancing wasn't exactly Castrata's strong suit, but she had fun anyways.

The four of them finally collapsed at a table, worn out from dancing, and laughing uproariously. "That was fun!" Ariasti grinned.

"Wicked!" Jadyn added.

Lanya just smiled evilly. "I'm going to go find another boy to torture," she said, walking off.

"I feel sorry for those boys she chooses," Ariasti said.

"They just don't know what they're dealing with, not when it concerns Lanya." Jadyn added. "She wraps them around her finger—she's so gorgeous that they just can't resist!"

Castrata grinned. "I know what you mean."

Suddenly, someone tapped her on the back. Castrata turned, flicking her bangs from her eyes. Crud, it was Tymmie.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked, his tone devoid of any sexual hinting, or malice. She frowned. This was new. His tone and eyes didn't give any indication that he knew her. Crud.

"Yeah, sure." Castrata got to her feet, exchanging confused glances with Jadyn and Ariasti, and followed Tymmie onto the dance floor. His hand crept around her waste, pulling her a little too close for comfort.

_Does he know who I am? _Castrata wondered.

_Little Goddess, of course I do, _Tymmie smirked, his words sliding across her mind, _but you needn't fear. I won't rat on you to your father._

_Why are you here? _Castrata demanded, _what do you want?_

_That's easy: I am here because, _his mind-voice lowered to a soft purr,_ I want you._

Castrata seriously considered slapping him, until she remembered that her father would kill her, and he probably just wanted to cross her over.

_Good luck, _she retorted, _that's not going to happen any time soon._

Tymmie didn't answer. Castrata suddenly realized that, as they were dancing, he had backed her into a dark corner. Crud. Crud. Crud.

Tymmie pushed her against the wall. His body quickly followed, pinning her, her hands attached to her sides. His lips met hers with a ferocity that surprised her. But in spite of the hunger evident in his kiss, his lips were gentle.

Castrata feebly attempted to push him away, but her arms were still pinned to her sides. Besides, she was rather enjoying his kiss.

His tongue pushed inside her mouth, exploring, yet gentle. His body was pressed against hers, and she suddenly had no wish to push him away.

Her hands came free, but she didn't move to escape. Her hands twined behind his neck, threading through his hair, drawing him closer. He groaned slightly.

He didn't break the kiss, and instead increased the intensity. She pressed against him, drawing closer still. Suddenly, she felt something slipping away from her. Energy, and hope. He was trying to cross her over.

Sickened with him, and with herself, for falling for it, she pushed him away. Tymmie looked at her with eyes full of hurt. Quickly, Castrata made to run, but he was just as quick. He pinned her back against the wall, his mouth coming down on hers again.

There was that blissful moment of passion and desire, racing through her body, as he ground his body against hers, until she remembered that he was evil. How easy it was to forget these things.

The hope and energy was leaving her again. No, that was NOT going to happen. She grimaced against his mouth, and suddenly, something inside her took over.

With an unknown hunger, she sucked the hope away from him. She shoved him away, glaring. Yet behind her eyes, she could feel something inside stir. Something inside of her wanted him. Not wanted, but wanted his hope. Wanted to feed on his life.

Quelling the unknown need, she stocked away, leaving Tymmie rooted to the spot, staring helplessly after her.

She returned to the table, ignoring the other's questioning looks.

Once again, someone tapped her on the back.

"What?" She asked, whirling around. "Oh, sorry Daniel." She blushed.

"Would you… would you care to dance?" Daniel asked, pointedly looking anywhere but at her.

"Yeah, sure." Castrata replied, breathlessly. How was it that she could go from kissing Tymmie passionately, to going week-kneed at the sight of Daniel?

FLASHBACK:

_"Followers can read minds." _

RESUME:

Followers can read minds. Followers can read minds. Followers can read minds! That was it. By reading someone's mind, she knew, one could also twist their emotions and feelings. But only if you were extremely powerful. Crud.

She let her arms wrap around Daniel's neck. How did she feel about him? She had known him under 24 hours, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that she already majorly liked him.

Suddenly, and explosion rocked the air. Tymmie strode from the shadows, flanked by Followers. People shrieked at the sudden appearance of phantom figures, and ran for the exits, except for the sloshed ones, who clapped, enjoying the party, until friends pulled them out. Soon, the place was empty. Even the staff had left.

_Ready to play, Little Goddess? _He jeered. _You have no one to help you. You're all alone. Daddy's not going to save you this time._

This was not good. UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR! Crud. Again. She seemed to be using that word a lot lately. Well, it was a very cruddy evening.

_I'm never alone! _Castrata heard herself retort.

"Do mine eyes deceive me?" Tymmie mocked, forgetting to speak into her mind, or perhaps forgetting-on-purpose, "or have several Vanessa Cleveland copies returned from the dead? Is this your invisible Daughter army?" He snorted, derisively.

Castrata heard Ariasti, Jadyn, and Lanya conversing in whispers behind her. She had to keep Tymmie occupied so that they could escape.

Castrata widened her eyes innocently, "Wouldn't you like to know, Tymmie," she purred, mixing innocence and sensuality that was in no way like Ariasti had. This was all her own. "I expect that there's plenty of things about me that you'd _love_ to know." She smirked.

Tymmie didn't look so 'calm, cool, and collected' anymore. His eyes sparkled with malice, and undisguised hatred. And lust. Oh yes, there was plenty of that. "You'll pay for that one, _Goddess_," he snarled, "And you'll pay over and over again. Until I'm _satisfied_." His eyes left her no need to wonder about what he meant by satisfied. Crud. Again.

Suddenly, Castrata felt little brushes of air swirl around her. She suddenly had an idea. It wouldn't work too long, but it would temporarily freak Tymmie out.

"You know what you said, earlier?" She asked, smiling wickedly, "About my army of Vanessa Cleveland's?" All that Castrata remembered was that Vanessa Cleveland had been the name of someone her parents had known, and that it had frequently been connected with the word 'invisibility'. She hoped this was the same person.

Tymmie frowned. "Yeah," he said uncertainly. The Followers around him began to shift with impatience.

"Well, you aren't far off," Castrata grinned.

Tymmie looked thunder-struck.

Suddenly, to the surprise of Castrata, Tymmie, and the Followers, figures began to appear from the air.

There were three of them—all with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a gorgeous body that belonged to a beach goddess.

"Vanessa?" Tymmie whispered.

The 'Vanessa-clone' to one side laughed. "Tymmie."

Tymmie's eyes widened. _Report out, _he roared, _this is serious. Tell boss that we've got a new breed of Daughters in town._

The Followers totally freaked out. Scrambling in all directions, about half of them faded into shadow, and the other simply ran for it. Tymmie faded, menacing eyes never leaving Castrata's face. _Soon, _he promised, _you _will _be mine! _And then he was gone.

Castrata nervously eyed the three 'Vanessa-clones'. "Um… thanks." she whispered.

"No prob! What are friends for?" Came Jadyn's voice.

Suddenly, the figures became… Jadyn, Ariasti, and Lanya. Castrata stared at them in stunned silence, before lowering her gaze to the necklaces hooked round their necks. All three moon amulets… _four_, she realized. She was wearing one. All four moon amulets were throwing off sparks, but slowly dying down, indicating that the danger was past.

"Well…" Lanya said, breaking the long silence, "that was fun?"

Castrata raised her eyebrows. "Until he tells my dad."

"Your dad?" Ariasti asked.

Castrata sighed. "I'll explain later," she said, starting towards the exit.

"Wait!" Jadyn said, as the trio ran to catch up with her.

Castrata waited.

"Come with us." Jadyn pleaded. "There's someone you need to meet."

Castrata frowned. Who was it? She knew that she didn't want to go, but she couldn't remember why. It was as if her mind had been wiped blank…

"I can't." Castrata said, "my dad needs me home soon." She knew it was true as soon as she said it.

"Okay…" Jadyn said, looking disappointed, and scared. "But soon?"

"Yeah, sure." Castrata said. "Look, I'm dead tired. I'm going to go home and sleep."

They hesitated. "Sure. Okay." Ariasti mumbled. "Catch you later?"

Castrata nodded, tiredly. She was going to go to bed, and go to sleep. Maybe when she woke up, she'd realize that this was all just a dream. Or a nightmare.


	4. I Will Always Hate You

**Disclaimer: I own none of the wonderful DOTM characters appearing in this story, although the ideas are my own, and I apologize for any warping of character personalities.**

**Author's Note: Okay, I want you all to scroll down to the bottom of this chapter, and take a look at the little blue button that says "submit review"…. you heard the button, folks! Follow the directions! Because 0 reviews is a rather sad thing. So review why don't you! I don't want to be nasty and not post all the other chapters I'm writing…. but feedback is lovely! Hee, hee… anyways, on with the story.**

Castrata hoped that she'd dreamed it. Inside, she knew that she hadn't, but as the weeks rolled by, and no one brought up the subject, she hoped anyway. They went to Planet Bang every Tuesday and Friday night, but Tymmie didn't show his face. That was one thing that she was thankful for.

It was a Friday night, and she was going over to Ariasti's house again. That was their unofficial meeting place. They all brought clothes over for each other to borrow and such forth, but Ariasti had the coolest clothes, and they all loved taking her stuff.

"Let me dress you!" Ariasti begged. "Please?"

"Fine," Castrata sighed.

When, at last, she was permitted to open her eyes, she froze at the sight of her reflection in the mirror.

While she had looked wicked, dressed in all black, Ariasti had taken it a step farther. She couldn't place what it was exactly, but it was different. She wore the baggy black pants, a tight tank of Ariasti's, which had been artfully slashed to reveal a sections of her black bra, as well as swatches of smooth, tan stomach. She wore larger hoop earrings, and Ari had stuck hoops into her second piercing, the one that she rarely used. Her hair had been blow dried, and straightened, so that it hung around her face perfectly. But her face was where the real change was. She couldn't place her finger on it—she still wore the dark liner and mascara, but Ari had paled her face, making her eyes stand out, piercingly huge, against her face. Somehow it looked natural. And wicked.

Oh, yes. Very wicked. And she liked the look.

Jadyn, Ariasti, and Lanya were already dressed and ready to hit the road when she stepped out from the bathroom.

"Wow." Jadyn whispered, as if stunned.

"I second the motion," Lanya grinned. Then she sobered. "You look… different. Less goddess, more wicked." She grinned again. "I like the look, though."

Ariasti grinned. "Told you that you'd like it," she said smugly.

They arrived at Planet Bang quickly. Ariasti and Castrata didn't dance much. Ari because her new shoes were bugging her, and Castrata to keep her company, and because she didn't think that dancing and her outfit mixed.

"I'm going to go for a walk around the dance floor," Castrata said, at last, "I need to move around a bit."

"Okay," Ari said, her eyes on the dancers.

"You want anything?" Castrata asked.

"Um… a Citrus Smoothie sounds yummy," she said, "Thanks."

"No prob." Castrata began walking.

As she neared the bar, she saw something that made her stand still. A man stood at the bar, flashing strobe lights illuminating parts of him, and throwing the rest into shadow. He wore all black, and, although his shaggy blonde hair hid his eyes, she knew that they would be piercing blue.

Castrata whirled, ready to disappear into the crowd. She hoped he hadn't seen her…

Someone tapped her arm. Inwardly, she cursed. She turned slowly, and looked into the eyes of… someone she didn't recognize. It wasn't her father, but she knew that it was a Follower. Lovely.

"Want to dance?" He asked, his voice open and inviting.

If she hadn't known he was a Follower, she would have fallen for it.

"No thanks," she said coolly, trying to walk away. Suddenly, he was blocking her exit. She tried to brush past him. "I've got bigger fish to fry," she said, icily.

"Oy, Stanton!" The guy yelled, "This one wants bigger fish to fry!" The Follower towed Castrata towards Stanton.

Crud. There was no getting out of this one… she would have closed her eyes, but she suddenly saw a smile cross her father's mouth.

"Really?" His voice was seductive. "What kind?" He was close to her, his eyes boring into her's, his eyes running over her. God. Her own father was attempting to seduce her. That was depressing.

Play it cool, she told herself… maybe… maybe he won't recognize you. Yeah right.

"Not you," she said, her voice cool enough to freeze liquid nitrogen.

"Try me," he whispered, eyes never leaving her face. "You'll love it… I guarantee."

She felt his mind attempting entry. She panicked. She knew that if she blocked, he'd have cause to look further. What she needed was a disguise.

A character. She needed a character, like in Drama. Her clothes bespoke a rebel, and she knew that Followers generally went for the good kids, so she immersed herself in images of stupid things: smoking, alcohol, and a druggie. But somehow, these things got mixed up in a different character: one who was kind, but very sarcastic. One who was rebellious, but still did well in school. A Drama freak, who had had the misfortune to begin smoking earlier in life, as well as drugs, but had managed to stop before she got too addicted to drugs. She still smoked however.

His mind was in her's, twisting around her thoughts. She could almost feel him smirking. She was almost the perfect person to turn. Why had she, out of all the things she could have became, choose to be someone who was perfect for turning? Someone who was good, but had had real brushes with evil, in the form of substances.

Her character, she realized, would probably say no, but end up dancing (and doing more) anyways. Good intentions, but, then again, intentions don't always count in the world that we live in.

Her father pulled her out onto the dance floor, his hands at her waist, slightly caressing her. Ew.

"I'm glad to have the hottest girl on the dance floor," he breathed.

Castrata flicked her hair, and rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said, but was obviously pleased.

"What did you say that your name was?" Stanton whispered.

Did she have a name? What was her name?

"Wendy," she said, recalling a favorite character from Peter Pan.

"Wendy," he breathed seductively, "it fits you."

Castrata had to use all of her control, so as not to flinch as his caresses on her back inched upwards. Ew. Ew. Ew….

What she needed was a distraction. She looked around, slightly frantically, for backup. None came.

Suddenly, Stanton's lips were on her's, and she felt that distant feeling of hope leaving her. Okay: kissed by your own father. Not cool. Father sucking the hope from you: seriously not cool.

Luckily for her, backup arrived, in the form of Jadyn. She took one look at Castrata and knew that something was wrong.

"Hey, girlie!" Jadyn squealed, "I thought I saw you here!"

Stanton stopped kissing Castrata, who sighed in relief. Thank God.

"Have you forgotten about me?" Jadyn pouted, motioning at Stanton, "I thought, after what happened between us… all those nights together…!" She stared at Castrata. "I thought you loved me!"

Stanton began edging away from Castrata. "See you," he mumbled, and stalked off.

The minute he was gone, Castrata hugged Jadyn. "Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed help."

Jadyn looked at her. "That man—who was he?"

"My father."

"Your what?"

"Father."

"Why—

"I can't tell you now." Castrata said, a little too snappishly.

Jadyn eyed her warily. "You need to meet our friend."

Castrata could foretell that there was no getting out of it this time. "Sure, whatever."

In a matter of minutes, they had rounded up Lanya and Ari, and found the car.

"I'll drive!" Jadyn volunteered.

"Great, the only person without a license is driving," Ariasti mumbled.

"I heard that." Jadyn grinned. "Besides, I'm going to pass."

Lanya mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, 'only cause you've already seen the questions!' but Jadyn ignored her.

The car pulled up in front of an apartment complex.

"Come on," Lanya said, impatiently, dragging Castrata from the car.

They pulled her up the stairs, to the top floor, before knocking on a door.

A woman opened the door. She had a tough, but friendly face, that held an air of sadness. A teardrop was tattooed under one eye. She looked vaguely familiar, but, somehow, Castrata couldn't quite remember who she was. It was as if her memory was foggy.

The woman's face brightened when she saw Ari, Lanya, and Jadyn, and even more when she saw Castrata.

"You came," she breathed, her voice bringing back memories.

Castrata jerked back. "You," she whispered, her voice icy.

The girls stared from Jimena to Castrata. They had never seen their friend act this way before.

"Castrata?" Jimena asked.

"I don't want to talk to you!" Castrata stormed, whirling around and practically running from the room.

The girls exchanged looks, and Ariasti gave a slight nod. "I'm on it," she said, and disappeared.

Castrata looked back. No one was following her… smack! She ran straight into Ariasti. "What?" She asked, defensively.

Ariasti didn't answer. She simply took Castrata's arm, and disappeared. So did Castrata.

They reappeared in Jimena's apartment.

As soon as Castrata realized where they were, she attempted another escape. Which didn't work.

"I'll tie you to the chair, if necessary." Jimena told her. Castrata imagined spitting on the woman's face.

"What do you want?" Castrata said, between clenched teeth. Her eyes shot daggers at Jimena, and the look on her face went beyond hatred.

"You." Jimena said simply. "You are a Daughter of the Moon, a goddess."

Castrata laughed. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe the word of a murderer?"

Jimena froze. "What did you say?"

"The truth," Castrata spat, "you killed my mother. You murdered her. You called yourself her friend, but you didn't even wait to hear her story. That's not what friends do! You killed her! You, Vanessa Cleveland, Tianna Moore, and Catty Turner!" She ignored the shocked expressions on her friend's faces. "But most especially you! You were her best friend!" Castrata sobbed, anger and hate mixing with sadness and hurt. "You! Her friend. Betrayed her!" She sat there, sobbing.

"Who told you that?" Jimena said in a deadly whisper.

"My father." Castrata spat. "I know what you're going to say," she said, interrupting as Jimena opened her mouth to speak, " 'I shouldn't trust my father, after all, he is a Follower, and the Prince of the Night at that'" she ignored her friend's gasps. "But guess what? I don't care! He's a good person! He doesn't lie to me, he treats me well, and he's never hurt me. Why would he lie to me about the death of Serena Killingsworth? He loved her! More than you ever did." She finished bitterly.

Jimena was silent for a long time. "You know what you are, Castrata," she said, finally, "You know what you can do. You have gifts, of courage, strength, and compassion, just as they do." She gestured towards Ariasti, Jadyn, and Lanya. "You are a Daughter of the Moon. In your heart, you know it. And you also know, that you must join the Daughters, or they will die. Without unity, there can be no hope."

"I will not." Castrata whispered, her voice colder than a winter night, "I will never join the ranks of one such as you."

"You must," Jimena said, "If not for me, than for them. You must, even if it is only for your sake."

Castrata was silent. Inside her, two complicated emotions were at war. One was the natural desire to hate and shun the group of people responsible for killing her mother. The other, rational side said that her friends had no part in it, and the Daughters fought for good, and therefore to go with them. Yes…no…yes… no…. no…

Castrata's head jerked up. Her eyes glittered with suppressed rage and hatred as she stared at Jimena. "I will be a Daughter," she said, through gritted teeth, "for my friend's sake. Here this, for I will never say it again: I will never do as you did to my mother. And know this: I will not speak to you again. I will be with the Daughters, because they fight for what is right, but I will never accept your teaching or guidance. And I will always hate you."

"Castrata—

"I will always hate you. Always." Castrata jumped up and ran from the room.

Ariasti, Jadyn, and Lanya exchanged looks, and then followed her, leaving Jimena, alone in the room, breathing heavily.

The car ride home was silent. As they pulled up in front of her house, Castrata mumbled, "See you tomorrow."

Jadyn smiled at her. "Yeah, tomorrow."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," Lanya said.

"We don't understand, really, we've only known Jimena to do good, but how can we be mad at you? You think she murdered your mother. For all we know, she could have." Ariasti added.

"Thanks," Castrata said, a relieved smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," Lanya said.

"What are friends for?" Chorused Jadyn and Castrata, grinning.

"Oh, and Ariasti?" Castrata said, turning back, "Sorry you didn't get your Citrus Smoothie."


	5. The Question Is:

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the fantastical characters and/or ideas created by the all-mighty and wonderful Lynne Ewing. I am simply borrowing them (temporarily) for my, and your amusement. **

**Author's Note: Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers-- what would I do without you ( cough cough suicidal hint cough cough) I apologize for the enormous amount of time that has elapsed since the updating of the last chapter. It shall not happen again! (I hope) And thank you to Nym, who reminded me to update (I forgot...)**

Castrata had trouble facing her father for a while after the incident. After all, it is rather unnerving when your own father attempts to seduce you. Unnerving, sad, and rather depressing. All in all, she preferred Tymmie. He was a better kisser, anyway.

_No, no. We aren't thinking about that_, she reminded herself. For some reason, it was very hard to get Tymmie out of her mind. A fact that was bugging her. An itch that she couldn't scratch, if you get what I mean. But whatever.

The fact was, she didn't know what to think. Sometimes, she had convinced herself that Tymmie was totally hot. Which he was, but… _No! Not thinking about that! _Sometimes, Castrata hated the randomness of her mind. It was irking.

Other times, however, her thoughts were all about Daniel, Ariasti's brother. Who, while he was hot, was normal. Something about Tymmie attracted her. Maybe the danger. In part, she could understand how her mother could fall for the bad guy. Something about the danger of the situation, and the forbidden quality was strangely alluring. Not that she could see what had possessed her mother to marry _Stanton_, of all people…

Castrata gave herself a little shake, and attempted to return to her homework. Not working. Her thoughts kept returning to Tymmie. He _was _hot, she decided. There was no question about that… _Stop!_

Castrata went to the sink and dunked her head in it, disregarding her clothes completely. The shock of the cold water definitely removed Tymmie from her mind.

Now she could concentrate on her homework. Unfortunately, her father chose that moment to appear in her bedroom. "Why is your hair wet?" Was the first thing he said.

"Don't ask." Castrata muttered darkly, attempting to push Tymmie from her mind.

"I'm asking."

Castrata sighed. "I'm trying to concentrate, Dad. The water was to keep my mind off of… certain things… which you have successfully returned it to."

"Such as?"

Castrata sighed again. Her father wasn't making this easy. "Well," she began, rather lamely.

"Never mind," Stanton cut her off. Inwardly, Castrata sighed in relief. "I just wanted to let you know that Tymmie's downstairs, and he's waiting for you. Said he had to talk to you in private."

Castrata froze. "Send him up," she heard herself say, and the minute her father was out of the room, she jumped up and furiously began drying her hair. She couldn't understand her need to impress, but she let it rule her anyway. She heard Tymmie walking down the hall, drawing nearer to her room, and through herself down on her bed, and grabbed her book.

Tymmie entered. "Hey," he said.

"Is that all you're going to say?" Castrata asked, mildly, her face betraying nothing, as she set her book down. "You were about to kill me last time I saw you, and now all you're saying is 'hey'?"

Tymmie blinked, and shrugged. "Last time, I had some personal issues," he said.

Castrata gave a rather ungentlemanly and unladylike snort.

Tymmie smiled at her, "What say we pick up where we left off?" He said, eying her.

"Where would that be?" Castrata asked, instantly suspicious.

"Here," Tymmie said, closing the space between them, and sweeping her into his arms.

His lips were soft and gentle, just as she had remembered them. There was a tender quality to them that had been lacking last time. It was as if he was more tuned to what she might want.

His hands found her waste, pulling her gently against him. Her hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer… she had to get closer to him…

He made a slightly strangled sound against her mouth that she realized was a groan. Their bodies pushed closer together, smashing against each other. He explored the recesses of her mouth, drinking her in.

It was as if they were in a contest to see how long they could remain seriously lip-locked. They obviously would win. That kiss went on and on.

His hands trailed upwards, caressing gently. Her hands felt the muscles of his back, smoothing downwards…

"What have we here?" Dad asked from the doorway.

Castrata and Tymmie sprang apart.

Castrata stared, wide-eyed at her father, who was smirking slightly. How much had he seen? Of course, that didn't matter much—they had been seriously kissing, and there was no way that Dad could mistake it for a game, or anything else for that matter.

She sneaked a look at Tymmie. Surprisingly, his face was quite blank—no thought, or even emotion sparkled in those gray eyes.

"What have we here?" Dad repeated.

Castrata steeled herself, avoiding her father's eyes. She really did not feel like answering. "Umm…" she began, in a rather small voice.

Dad raised his eyebrows.

"Just what it seems," Tymmie cut into the silence.

"Which is?"

"Just what it seems," Tymmie repeated.

Castrata's father raised his eyebrows again. That wasn't a good sign. "Which is?" His voice was deadly soft.

"Oh, come _on_, Dad!" Castrata said, "Like you don't know?"

Her father stopped dead in his tracks.

"Like you never had some fun with Mom!"

"I married your mother!" Her father snarled, "Are you prepared to do the same to him?"

"You've done this to countless girls for centuries!" Castrata sobbed, crying now. "Why is it suddenly bad if I have a bit of fun! What's the matter with that?"

"A little bit of fun?" Her father repeated, "That wasn't a little fun, Castrata Selene Killingsworth—that was serious—and you know it! If I hadn't interrupted when I did, who knows how far you would have gone!"

Castrata flinched. "So what if I did?" She asked, tears silently streaking down her face, "It's my choice. Not yours. Mine. If I want to do…." She trailed off, sobbing silently. "You did it all the time," she whispered, noiseless tears streaking down her face.

Her father stopped, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Think what you're saying, Castrata." He demanded softly. "Think what you're implying."

"I know what I'm saying!" Castrata yelled. "I'm telling you: it's my choice! Even if I _did _want to go all the way—which I don't—than you have no business trying to stop me! You didn't let anyone take you away from Mom—even though you both could have gotten killed. Or worse, you could have committed her to an immortal time without hope. But no—nothing could stop _you_! Why should I be any different?" Castrata demanded.

Dad ran his fingers through his hair. "I swear, you get more like your mother every day," he muttered. "Look," he said, finally meeting Castrata's eyes, "I won't try and stop you. You're right: it's your decision." He smiled, wryly, "I know from experience how hard it is to love the bad guy or the good girl, though."

Castrata smiled, slightly waterily.

"Now go splash some water on your face," Dad ordered.

"Good girl?" Tymmie asked, the minute Castrata was out of the room "So you're sure?"

Dad nodded. "How else do you explain her amulet? She's a Daughter—and we both know it. The question is: who's going to be the one to betray her."

**Author's Second Note: I apologize for all the fluffy stuff. Hee, hee. It was fun to write, though... Having a writer's block over here-- review, and send me your ideas! **

**Becca/Dreamer (who is not at all sorry for all the fluff in the last chapter...)**


	6. No Boundaries

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zilch. Nada. And it makes me sad…**

**Author's Note: I am sorry about the confusion about the characters and what's happening: I hope the chapter clears some of it up. As always, your ideas and thoughts are welcome!**

Things were decidedly tense at home. She avoided her father, and she avoided Tymmie. She avoided Jimena, naturally.

The funny thing was, she wasn't sure anymore exactly how she felt about Jimena. Her first impulse, naturally, was to hate her. After all, according to her father, Jimena was single-handedly responsible for her mother's death.

Of course, when her mind really pursued the subject, she found that she was no longer sure what to believe on this matter. She had always heard the saying, "There are two sides to every story."

Well, it was probably true. All she knew was her father's, if she admitted it to herself, rather bias opinion. Her father was definitely ready to believe the worst of Jimena. And besides, her father still talked occasionally about "Wendy"—something that made Castrata wonder about the sanity of her father. So what was Jimena's story?

As soon as she pursued this line of thought, she backed away. Jimena was awful, guilty, a murderess, she would remind herself. But was she?

Confusion, Castrata decided, was the worst of all emotions. Unlike jealousy, or rage, it didn't fade in time, but remained until the problem was solved.

Meanwhile, Castrata had other things to worry about.

AKA: Tymmie. AKA: her father. AKA: the other Daughters.

Traditionally, she was told, the Magna Carter (whatever that was) was in charge of the training of the Daughters. As in, the regulating and expanding of their powers. The problem with this was, as Castrata did not trust nor except Jimena's guidance, she was utterly alone in the ways of training her power. For that matter, she wasn't even positive what her power was. She knew that it had to be connected somehow with mind reading, or how would she be able to block the Followers or converse with them? This, however, remained an unsolved mystery.

"Is there a way to exhaust our power?" Castrata asked Ariasti, one day after school, when the Daughters were practicing with their abilities.

Ariasti frowned. "I don't think so. I mean, they get weaker and all as the moon wanes, but I don't think we can use them up. I think that we can tire ourselves out… but that's all. I think. Jadyn?"

Jadyn frowned slightly, "Let me check."

The Daughters often asked Jadyn for answers to questions that could have occurred long ago. It was a perk of Jadyn's power—unlike Jimena's, Jadyn could read the past, present, and future whenever she wished. And she could read it about anything she wished.

They had often discussed the reasons behind Jadyn's ability. Castrata was in personal opinion that Jadyn could "see" back in time because of her mother, Catty. It only made sense, she reasoned, that if Catty could jump back in time to whenever she wished, that Jadyn be able to "see" whenever she wished. However, Jadyn could go back as far as she wanted—the farthest had been back to see the building of the Coliseum. **(A/N: I know I didn't spell that right…) **

"Nope." Jadyn said, a moment later. "Daughters are only unable to use their powers if they are physically not able to. Or mentally. But it can't be taken away… as far as I can see."

Ariasti and Lanya nodded, and went back to their training. Ariasti was becoming ever better at shape shifting. She could not only become a shadow or air and travel in an instant (like a Follower) but also become another person. She had also perfected her ability to change the image and voice of others.

"Lanya—do you mind secluding your storm?" Castrata asked, "It's distracting."

"Sure," Lanya said, and obliged. Lanya was a "Weather Witch" as they liked to call her. She was the creator of storms and hurricanes, a mover of lightning, and a holder of thunder.

During these sessions, Castrata, not knowing her power, would help the others. Today, she was working with Jadyn. "Fall of the Roman Empire" she said.

And Jadyn proceeded to tell her exactly which events had led to the fall of the Roman Empire.

After practice, Castrata went home. For once, her father was home, and would remain home all night. Without the company of any of his friends.

"Dad," Castrata asked, picking at her broccoli. She didn't care for broccoli, but her father was going through a "let's-eat-healthy" stage in life. "What do you do? I mean, why are you always trying to 'get' the Daughters? I mean, I know its your job, but what's the motive?"

Her father shrugged and helped himself to more mashed potatoes. "Do you want any?" He asked.

Castrata shook her head. "I mean, what's so wrong with hope? Are you… I don't know…jealous?"

"Of?" Her father looked up—she had finally caught his attention.

"Our hope. That we can hold on and hold on when you can't."

Dad's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Then he relaxed. "I suppose you could say that. But it's more than just jealousy. It's a hunger—a need. As if, unless you steal someone's hope, that you will… it's hard to explain."

Castrata nodded. "That's what Zahi meant, right? You didn't turn me—why?"

Her father sighed. "Castrata, its hard to explain, okay?" He was wearying of their conversation, Castrata could tell that much.

"Dad—just tell me one thing. Do you hate me?"

"What?" Her father stared.

"Do you hate me, for having hope. For being…"

"A Daughter," Dad finished.

Castrata ducked her head. "Well… yeah."

Her father was silent for a moment. "No."

The silence stretched out—interminable.

"Do you know what your gift is?" Dad asked.

"No," Castrata admitted.

"I could help," Dad offered.

"Dad—you're on the other side," Castrata said, exasperatedly.

Dad smiled slightly. "Yeah. I know." He sounded sad.

"Fine," Castrata consented.

"Close your eyes," Her father instructed, "and take down your barriers."

Castrata obliged. Her fathers mind in hers was soft and warm… comforting.

"It's hard to be sure—" Dad said, haltingly, as he pulled from her mind.

"Why?"

"I think because of the rather—unique blending of parentage," Dad muttered, "But I—that just can't be right."

"What can't be right?" Castrata asked exasperatedly.

"I can't see—" Her father stopped again, "I can't see any boundaries on your power."

Goosebumps traveled up Castrata arms and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. "Why?"

Her father shrugged. "It could have just been me. Or—it could be true. A daughter of the Prince of the Night and the Daughter's Key/Hecate's Chosen would naturally possess some… unusual… talents." Catching her look, he added. "Don't worry about it—you've already blocked yourself off from most of it."

Not altogether _that _reassuring. Castrata shivered, and went back to toying with her broccoli.

Author's Note: Sorry for both the short chapter and the long period of time where I did not update! Thank you to everyone for your wonderful reviews—and, as always, your thoughts and ideas are welcomed! I think, actually, that I will try and incorporate as many ideas as I can… so… if you have an idea… share it! I will try and update again soon. 


	7. Bringing Out the Dark

**Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to anything in this story, except, perhaps, Castrata and her friends…. maybe…. I am not Lynne Ewing, much as I wish I could be, and I am merely playing around with her characters for my amusement, and hopefully, for yours.**

**Author's Note: Okay! My goal is to update quickly, and we'll see if I continue to follow my goal… however, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and keep those reviews coming! ;-)**

Castrata slammed her car door shut and locked it, stretching her tanned legs in the spring breeze. **(A/N: Yes, I'm not sure if it's spring, but I'm saying it is, so it is…) **

La Brea High was as crowded as ever, and the heat waves of and LA summer were on their way. Castrata absent-mindedly checked herself over—it was an annual routine as she waited to go through the security monitors. She was wearing a new jean miniskirt with straw sandals. Her toenails were painted a pale blue, spritzed with silver, and matched her shirt's color to the dot. Over her pale blue/silver spaghetti-strap top she wore a white, button down tee, as was the style. Her long blonde hair was down in slight curls, and she wore hoop-earrings. She absent-mindedly approved the outfit. God, this line was _long_.

Castrata's nose itched, and she sneezed rapidly. Her eyes watered. Muttering to herself, she wiped her streaming eyes.

"There you are!" Jadyn said, walking straight up to Castrata. "Gosh you're fast! I could have sworn that you were in line a second ago."

Castrata blinked. Wasn't she in line….?

Around her, students continued the usual hustle and bustle of school life, as they chatted with their friends, copied each other's homework, and opened their lockers. Wait. _Opened their lockers? _Castrata blinked again.

She wasn't standing in the line anymore. Oh, no. She was in the hall were her locker was—on the _opposite end of the school_.

"I was…." She muttered to Jadyn.

"You were what?"

"Was in line."

Jadyn studied Castrata carefully, as though Castrata were a specimen under a magnifying glass that she wished to observe. "Are you okay?"

"I'm… not sure." Castrata said, her mind reeling. "I just… well, I _was_ in line a second ago, then I sneezed, then… I was here."

Jadyn frowned. Then her face brightened. "Maybe you're realizing your power!"

"Yeah." Castrata said, finally. "Maybe."

School passed in a blur. A constant headache, which began soon after her conversation with Jadyn, followed Castrata through the day, continuing its plague.

"Ready to go to Planet Bang?" Ariasti asked that night.

"Sure." Castrata mumbled. She wasn't in the mood for the quick beats, dancing, and couples making out in the corners. But if she didn't go, her friends would wonder. "I don't think I feel like changing, though."

"No prob," Ariasti said, easily. "You look hot anyway."

Castrata smiled slightly. "Thanks. I wish this headache would go away, though."

"Have you taken anything?" Lanya asked, from where she was slithering into a black, skintight halter dress.

"Yeah. Several times. It isn't helping though."

"You okay?" Lanya asked.

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Let's go."

Planet Bang was just as unappealing when they got there, as it had been in Ariasti's bedroom. If not more so.

Castrata's head was seriously killing her. She sat down to watch her friends dance. A hand tapped her shoulder. She half-turned. It was Tymmie. She sighed inwardly.

"Yes?"

"Dance with me." It wasn't a question.

Tymmie's eyes bored into her's. She was drowning…

The world went dark before her eyes….

Suddenly, it was as if she was hearing two of her arguing with each other. Or herself. Or… whatever.

**_Come with me…_**

**No! I have to stay here… Have to hold on!**

_**Come with me… come… come to me…**_

**Breathe. Just Breathe…**

_**Come…come with me…**_

Castrata wrenched herself from the grasp of the voices. She was being torn apart… falling… drowning in hate…dying… and reborn again.

"Help!" She gasped out. A strong hand grasped her waist, pulling her back for air.

"Are you alright?" Tymmie asked. The playful, seductive look was gone from his eyes, replaced with worry.

Castrata tried to say, 'Yes, I'm fine', but her throat refused to make the words.

"Castrata, you need to go home. Stanton can help you."

Castrata nodded dumbly. Tymmie pulled her outside into the parking lot.

"What about the others?" She asked, when she found her voice again.

"I contacted them. They know what happened, and they know to stay away."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what's wrong yet. I don't know if its just you, or contagious, or something else entirely."

Castrata tried to nod, but her head felt like it was being split apart.

**_Come… come to me…_**

**Hold on!**

**_Come… come to me…_**

****"No!" She gasped.

"No?" Tymmie looked worried.

"I…" Castrata tried to speak, but was cut off by a fit of coughing, which began and wouldn't stop. Her breath came in short bursts…. the world was going fuzzy again… her head was being torn apart… she couldn't breathe…

Come… come to me… 

"Hold on, Castrata," Tymmie said, squeezing her hand as they rocketed down the dark LA roads.

"Is she going to be okay?" Tymmie asked.

"I'm not sure…" Her father's voice was strained…

"Drink this, it'll help…"

"Sleep."….

Castrata awoke sometime later. The sun was up. She felt perfectly normal. She frowned. Wasn't there a reason why she shouldn't feel fine? If only she could remember…

"Hey, Dad!" She said, bounding downstairs. Her father looked up.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked.

"Of course. Why shouldn't I?"

"Are you okay, Castrata?"

"Why shouldn't I?" She repeated.

Her father studied her carefully. "Well…"

Castrata crossed the room, and checked the schedule for the day. "Hey, this thing's off!" She complained. "We're six days ahead!"

"No, honey, we're not… you were out for awhile…"

"Out?"

"Unconscious."

Suddenly, it all came rushing back. Castrata sat down heavily. "What happened to me?" She whispered.

Her father shook his head. "I don't really know…"

"But I feel fine now! What's wrong with me?"

Again, her father shook his head. "I just don't know…"

Castrata nodded, dumbly.

The day continued, uneventfully. Her friends didn't avoid her, but they shared worried looks whenever they thought she wasn't looking.

"You alright for serving?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, sure." Castrata said. She had a slight headache, but not too bad. She changed, grabbed the tray, and entered the room. Today, Tymmie, Zahi, and a stranger were seated in the room. She raised an eyebrow. This was very important company. After seeing all the Followers parade by her house, she could gauge power levels with ease. Zahi was a member of the Inner Circle, with moderate power (as far as the Inner Circle went), Tymmie was at the high end, and the stranger… well…

The man had extremely pale skin, bottomless eyes, and dark hair. His features were hot, and a little too perfect. He wore power and an heir of command like a second skin. A dark cloak was settled about his shoulders.

This man, Castrata realized, was even more powerful than her father. That alone gave her the creeps. She met his eyes unflinchingly. As she stared into his bottomless eyes, she got the irrepressible feeling of being dunked into ice-cold water.

She ignored it.

After several minutes, he laughed softly—a dead, chilling sound—and looked away. "What an interesting daughter you have here, Stanton."

Castrata could feel the pressure building in her head.

"Yes," Dad said, his voice cool, and betraying none of the emotion that Castrata alone knew he felt. "She'll be leaving now."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Castrata looked around for the source of the voice before realizing that it was her. The pressure was at bursting point now…

"Castrata—leave." Dad said tightly.

"No." The pressure, so high a second ago, was completely gone. Poof. Just like that.

The stranger laughed softly. "She is so like you, Stanton. May I inquire to the mother?" Castrata sat down next to Zahi and Tymmie, across from the stranger.

"Serena Killingsworth." Stanton's voice was utterly calm, but Castrata could see a vein pulsing in one of his hands. He wasn't angry—he was tense.

"Ah. That would explain the power. You do know that she has extreme potential?"

"You know," Castrata said, sipping some soda, "I am here in this room. I'm not sure where you came from, or who you are, but I'm pretty sure that it's polite not to talk over someone practically anywhere you go."

She didn't know why she'd said it. Her mouth was talking all on its own.

The stranger turned his eyes on her.

"You may call me Ethan," he said, voice deadly soft, "I come from a place that is colder than hell. Tell me, Daughter of Stanton, what is your name?"

"Castrata Selene Raliss Nocitis Larhk."

Ethan (although she knew that wasn't his name. Whenever shifty characters say 'You may call me', you can guarantee it isn't their name. Plus, something seemed to ring false about the whole situation) sucked in a breath. "How intriguing," Ethan muttered. "What an interesting choice of names," he said to Stanton, who cringed slightly. Zahi and Tymmie were pointedly ignoring the whole exchange—they appeared to be quite immersed in their soda cups.

"Her mother's choice."

"All?"

"No—I chose 'Nocitis', and 'Castrata'."

Ethan turned to Castrata. "Your name, roughly translated is this: Castrata, 'She who walks the winding shadows'. Selene, 'Creator of the Moon and Hope'. Raliss, 'Lady of the Eternal Radiance', Nocitis, 'Daughter of the Night', and Larhk, "Creator and Destroyer'."

"How very appropriate," Castrata said with a smirk.

Ethan smiled slightly. "One would say that it is only half appropriate—for you cannot be both 'She who walks the Winding Shadows' and the 'Lady of Eternal Radiance'. That is contradictory, is it not?"

"You tell me." Castrata said.

Ethan's dark eyes flashed. "I just did. Tell me, Castrata, do you find mouthing off at your father's superior entertaining? Are you not intimidated in the slightest?"

Castrata knew at once that the second question was the most important. What Ethan really wanted to know was this, 'Do you find me scary?'

She considered. He was intimidating—yes. However, something in her instincts told her that she shouldn't—couldn't—bow down to him.

Something stirred, deep inside the depths of her mind.

**_Come to me… Come to me…_**

Castrata stretched slightly, and then smiled, coyly. "Intimidating?" She purred, "Of course I do."

Ethan's mind found her's again, forcing her to reveal her intent. Castrata followed him.

_**Come to me… Come to me….**_

Inside her own mind was a flurry of activity. A battle between two opposing forces. But Ethan couldn't know that. Quickly, so as to not attract suspicion, she immersed herself in one part, not even bothering to check which.

She felt an instant change. She stretched again, letting her top ride up. She suddenly felt so… sinful. Wicked. It was a good feeling.

She smiled. The smile didn't reach her icy eyes. "Sorry boys, but I can't stick around. I have things to do…" she trailed off, and laughed, a sound that chilled the bones of everyone in the room.

She turned as she left the room, and no one missed the sheer cold that had enveloped her eyes. No one had missed the strength of her body and the tension that had suddenly enveloped her. No one missed the abrupt change in manner as she suddenly became different. No one missed the bottomless depth of her blue eyes.


	8. Ethan's Riddle

Disclaimer: I don't own this story, its contents, characters, etc. Lynne Ewing does.

**Author's Note: Yay! I update! Oh, and special thanks to Cheyenne, who has not only inspired me to update, but has given me an awesome idea. I'll try and use your idea next chapter! Thanks, also to Ceana, Moira, and Nym, and everyone else who has reviewed. Your thoughts are appreciated! But onto the story….**

The incessant buzzing in Castrata's head was bugging her more than a little. She couldn't remember anything between talking with 'Ethan' about her names, and finding herself lying, face down, on the floor of her bedroom. She awoke feeling extremely nauseated.

She had walked down the stairs to find her father in a hot conversation with Tymmie. She caught only, "It's like an illusion—a mirror!" Before they saw her and stopped talking abruptly.

"How are you feeling?" Dad and Tymmie had asked, almost simultaneously. Enough so to make her laugh.

After Tymmie had left and she had forced down some crackers she had felt almost normal. Now, several hours later, after a tiring school day, she found herself feeling fine, except for that low drone in her mind.

The drone seemed to be increasing in volume and intensity as time wore on. She considered talking to her father about it—but he was busy with 'Ethan'.

Castrata rubbed her eyes tiredly, as the pounding seemed to build and build. The pressure behind her eyelids was unavoidable and uncontrollable.

Come to me… 

_**Let go…**_

Castrata shook her head. Was she going mad? These voices in her mind, whispering… what was happening to her?

An outsider, at this point, would have seen a blonde girl with a pale face under her California tan. The girl shook uncontrollably, a fearsome look passing over her perfect features. If they had been close enough to see her eyes, they would have seen an icy, pale, blue replace her deep blue eyes. The girl stopped shaking, and stood up. A satisfied smirk settled onto her perfect features, and her eyes were chilling to behold.

The outsider would have backed away.

Castrata shook her blonde hair from her face and peered into the mirror, carefully examining her features. She swayed down the stairs, and entered her father's room without knocking.

She didn't even bother to grab a tray of food; she simply sashayed inside and sat down.

Her father and Ethan both turned to look towards her. "How nice of you to join us," Ethan purred.

"Castrata, what are you doing here?" Her father demanded. "I apologize for my daughter's behavior," he said to Ethan.

"You needn't." Castrata said.

"What?"

"You needn't apologize for me," Castrata said, "he wanted me here."

Her father looked to Ethan for confirmation. Ethan's perfect features looked surprised for the barest of moments, before he carefully examined Castrata's face, and then nodded.

Stanton's eyes flicked from Ethan to Castrata and back, as if solving a puzzle, just after finding the missing piece.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Dad asked quietly, and barely waited for Ethan's nod, before leaving the room.

Castrata and Ethan sat in the room for a moment, just eying each other. Quite abruptly, Ethan stood and strode over to where she was sitting. Castrata stood up to meet him.

They simply stood, inches apart, staring at each other. Before Castrata could move, or think, Ethan's mouth was on hers.

If Castrata had been able to think, she would have connected the fact that she had been hearing voices around the same time she had met Ethan. She would have considered her strange behavior when she was around him. And she certainly would have realized that his kissing was very different from Tymmie's.

When Castrata had kissed Tymmie, it had been because she wanted to. _Really _wanted to. It had been a matter of choice. With Ethan, there was no choosing. There was only submission.

His mouth was urgent as it claimed hers, his body pressing against hers. Castrata's head spun as they collapsed on the sofa. She gradually began regaining the slight amount of her that was still Castrata, and as Ethan continued kissing her, she slowly began coming back to life.

She felt rather like a dummy—Ethan was kissing her—as she lay beneath him, unresponsive. He didn't seem to care.

As Castrata began to regain the use of her mind, she realized that she didn't really like Ethan's kisses, let alone the person that was doing the kissing. She attempted to shove him off.

The door burst open, and her father and Tymmie stepped into the room. After making sure to kiss Castrata, long and hard—even as she attempted to shove him away—Ethan turned to Stanton and Tymmie.

"Now, now. We can't have this. Surely you respect my choice, Stanton?"

Stanton's face paled. "You can't have her."

Ethan smiled slightly. "Oh, I think I can."

"It's customary to ask the lady in question," Tymmie said, intervening. No one but Castrata saw the hurt look on his face, as his eyes danced between Castrata and Ethan.

Ethan sneered. "Maybe it once was. I think I'm quite above the old rules. They were rather restrictive, weren't they, Stanton?"

Stanton's face paled even more, if that was possible. "Just ask her."

Ethan smiled. "Fine. If you insist." Ethan turned to Castrata, and spoke in a string of words that Castrata, in her dazed state, belatedly recognized were Latin, and a question of some sort.

"Pardon?" She said, tiredly, leaning against the couch for support.

Her father took in her position and swiftly jumped in, "I'm not sure this is the time for this, _Ethan_. Castrata's worn out; she needs rest."

Ethan's eyes narrowed momentarily. "Fine. But let me ask the question first—she can answer later."

Dad nodded reluctantly.

"In English, please." Castrata said.

Ethan smiled. When he spoke, it was not in English, as she'd requested—it was still Latin, but she understood it. "Your task is to answer this riddle—According to Ancient Myth, in the sands of time, what is the darkness of watery Chaos?"

"That's not a riddle."

"It's a question."

"And why does it matter if I answer it?"

Ethan looked her in the eye. "If you answer it, you'll live, and be asked the true question. If you don't—you'll join me for all time." And he disappeared in a haze of shadow.

Castrata exchanged looks with her father and Tymmie. "What was that about?"

Neither would answer. Finally, her father said, "Make sure you answer the question. Tymmie and I are bound not to tell you or help you—you have to answer this on your own."

Castrata frowned slightly.

"You should go to bed," Her father said, softly. "He'll want an answer this time tomorrow night—you have that long to find an answer."

"And if I don't?" Castrata challenged.

"Then you are bound to him for all time." Her father said, softly. Worry filled his piercing blue eyes. He took Castrata in, and then glanced at Tymmie. "I'm going outside for a bit," he said, and made a quick exit.

That left Tymmie, Castrata, and a long, unwavering silence.

"Did you…?" Tymmie asked, softly, his eyes filled with hurt, "Are you…? Did you…?"

"No." Castrata said, quickly. "It wasn't like that."

The silence returned.

"Well—" Tymmie started, as Castrata said,

"I—"

"Sorry," they both said, in unison

"Well," Tymmie began again, "I… I'll just… if you don't…" and he turned to leave.

Without quite thinking about it, Castrata intercepted him, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He relaxed against her, the tension draining from his body.

"Good night." Castrata whispered.

Tymmie smiled, and it lit up his eyes. "Good night."

Castrata went up to her room, and lay awake for what seemed like forever, listening to her father talking quietly, and pondering the riddle that would change her life.


	9. Mythology Class Saves the Day!

Disclaimer: (Sigh) I own nothing. And it makes me want to cry! Anyways….

**Authors Note: Yay! I got reviews—that means that SOME people liked it! AND IT MAKES MY DAY TO GET A REVIEW! So push the button! (It's not that hard—you can do it!) **

Castrata, needlessly said, did not sleep well. Correction: She didn't sleep at all. She lay in bed, turning the riddle around in her mind… the answer was right there… she just knew it… If only she could reach it!

Castrata walked to school—she wanted time to think. (Not that she hadn't had all night…) She had the feeling that she couldn't tell her friends about this. Much as she wanted to, she knew that they'd all give their own advice, and right now, what she needed was her own answer. It was right in front of her face, she just knew it.

School was surprisingly empty. Viruses, it seemed, were running rampant. Jadyn was out with the virus, and Lanya had left LA early that morning on a family trip to Lake Tahoe.

Castrata faded out so much in class that even Ariasti, who was busy doodling on her notebook, noticed.

"What is it?" Ariasti asked as they sat down for lunch.

Castrata paused. Her first impulse said not to share any information, but out of the three, Ariasti gave the best advice—and didn't make you follow it. Castrata knew that whatever she decided, Ari would back her up.

"It's this riddle—" Castrata blurted out, and found herself telling Ariasti everything. Ari listened carefully, occasionally asking questions.

"So," Ari said when Castrata was done, "Let me get this straight. Ethan appears to be of Follower ranks—and more powerful than your father. Just how many people are above your father in rank? I thought he was the Prince of the Night."

Castrata's face paled. "He is…" she whispered, "There's only one… one who's more powerful…." she trailed off.

"The Atrox." Ariasti finished. She bit her lower lip, drawing blood, but she didn't seem to notice. "This complicates things. And you say he _kissed_ you?"

Castrata nodded.

"Was he a good kisser?" Ariasti asked. Then, catching sight of Castrata's face, she sobered again. "Sorry. But He wasn't draining hope from you…? It was just a normal kiss?"

Castrata nodded.

"Did it seem… sincere?" Ariasti asked. "Passionate." She clarified, at Castrata's bank expression.

Castrata thought back, and then nodded. "Unfortunately."

Ariasti thought for a second. Suddenly her face clouded over.

"What is it?" Castrata asked.

"He asked you a riddle. And Tymmie… Tymmie said that it was customary to _ask_ the woman a question—correct?"

Castrata nodded, not sure where all this was going.

"Think, Castrata!" Ariasti said, exasperatedly, "When does a man normally _ask _a woman a question?"

Castrata frowned—there were hundreds of scenarios…

"A BIG question, Castrata!"

Castrata froze. "You're joking."

Ariasti shook her head. "Think about it. Ethan asked you this question-riddle-thingy. He said that if you got it right, then you'd be answered the _true _question. This riddle was a test to see if you were worthy. That means that the next question will be…"

"But I don't want to marry him!" Castrata said, practically yelling. The people at nearby tables gave her odd looks. She lowered her voice. "I don't want to marry him!"

"I heard the first time." Ariasti said wryly, rubbing her ear. Castrata wondered how loud she had been. "Fine, let's skip to the important part—the riddle." Catching Castrata's look, she said, "If you don't answer this riddle correctly, I doubt that he'll let you live."

Castrata nodded.

"Now," Ariasti said, taking charge of the situation once more. "We know its from and Ancient Myth. Hmmm… Let's see. When I think 'Ancient'—I think… Greece, Rome, and Egypt. Mostly."

Castrata snapped her fingers. "Greece has a beach—it's called the Sands of Time!"

Ari smiled. "We may have something…"

They were interrupted by the bell. Castrata and Ari glanced at their half-eaten sandwiches and grabbed the plate, quickly finishing the remainder of their lunches.

"This is perfect!" Castrata said, as they headed towards mythology class. "I can look through our book to find the answer—we're reading aloud today, anyways!"

It was perfect—except that Castrata had more trouble finding the answer than she'd originally anticipated.

The teacher, and the classmates that the teacher chose to read, droned on and on… Castrata tuned out—she had to find the answer!

"Miss Larhk! Miss Larhk! Your attention please!" The teacher sniffed. Castrata vaguely realized that the teacher was talking to her. Her classmates giggled.

"Yes?" Castrata inquired, drawing out more giggles.

"Please do pay attention, Miss Larhk. Why don't you honor us by reading the next section for us."  
Grumbling, Castrata turned to her book. Her breath caught in her throat, and she shared a glance with Ariasti.

"Any day now, Miss Larhk," The teacher said, impatiently.

Castrata ducked her head and began to read.

_"The Ancient Egyptians believed many interesting things. One of the most peculiar was a belief that the sands were guardians of Time. For this reason, Egypt's deserts were sometimes called the Sands of Time. _

_"Ancient Egyptians also had interesting views on the creation world. The most popular theory is that the world formed from Watery Chaos, from which the sun god, Ra, emerged. It is often said that Watery Chaos was both the light and the dark, both the destroyer, and the creator."_

Castrata sped home as fast as she could. She knew! She paused only to consider how close she had come to being wrong—Greece! Agh!

Ethan regarded her curiously as she skipped into the house, her hair flying, a broad smile on her face. Her father and Tymmie looked on, apprehensively.

"Do you have an answer, Castrata Selene Raliss Nocitis Larhk?" Ethan asked, formally.

"Yes," Castrata breathed.

Ethan arched an inquiring brow, his face somehow managing to appear threatening and inquisitive at the same time. "And…?" He prompted.

"The Watery Chaos was regarded as both the light and the dark—both the creator and the destroyer."

Ethan bowed mockingly. "That is correct, if rather crude," he said, smoothly.

Castrata glanced at her father and Tymmie—they both looked rather relieved. Tymmie caught her eye and gave her a tender look. Castrata felt her stomach perform a flip-flop. She turned back to Ethan.

"Time for your final question," Ethan smirked. "Darkness or light."

It took Castrata a second to realize that he had just spoken the question. Her face must have betrayed her, because Ethan laughed softly—a chilling sound. "Darkness, or light, Castrata. It's not that hard a decision. An eternal night with me, or a day of sunshine." He laughed again, and disappeared. With him went Tymmie and her father.

_We are not permitted to stay, _Tymmie said, across her mind. _We are unable to sway you in any way. Choose for yourself, Castrata. _And then he was gone.

Castrata's knees buckled, and she slid to the floor. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Make a choice? She was no fool—she knew that if she chose darkness that she would become dark, and eventually destroy the world at Ethan's side. She would be the final straw to break the camel's back in the battle between dark and light.

At the same time, choosing light, she would live no longer than a day—Ethan had made that quite clear. How did one choose between damnation and… well… death. She knew what the correct answer was—but she also knew, quite suddenly, that without her the Daughters would perish, too. So she was choosing between damnation and damnation.

More tears followed that first tear on its way down her cheeks. She cried silently, alone. She brushed her amulet gently. "Mom, I wish you could help me." She whispered.

The house was silent. Castrata rose and brushed herself off. As she bent over, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and her senses registered that another person was in the house.

Castrata whipped around to meet a pair of bright green eyes.

"Mom." She breathed.

Author's Note: Hee, hee. :-) Now, if you want more, we need some more reviews. That little blue button is simply calling your name…

**Oh, all thanks to Cheyenne—you rock! Here we go on your idea…:-)**


	10. Mother Daughter

Chapter Ten 

**Mother, Daughter**

Disclaimer: I do not own this, and am not receiving any money for this story. In fact, even this part of the plot is not mine—it's Cheyenne's! So, kudos to Cheyenne, and be sure to thank her when you review…

**Author's Note: I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY… well, you get the picture—sorry for not updating! Not to make excuses, but: I've been in two plays, juggling finals, been gone for two-three weeks on vacation (camping), swim team, etc. I am really sorry! But here is the chapter. Enjoy!**

Castrata stared, unsure of whether or not she was completely and totally hallucinating.

"Castrata—it's me." Serena said, simply, as if reading her mind. Which, Castrata belatedly realized, was probably the case.

"Mom?" Castrata whispered. Her throat closed and her eyes itched with tears. "Mom?"

The tears that had been building in Castrata's eyes were no longer in her control. As if she were only five years old, Castrata sobbed her heart out, her mother gently rocking her and stroking her hair.

As soon as Castrata got herself under control, she asked, "Mom, what do I do?"

Serena sat for a moment, as if pondering the situation—Castrata didn't even need to explain; her mother already knew.

"Two choice," her mother said, slowly, "have been given to you."

She paused.

"There are always two choices. Always. But…" Her mother paused again, "Sometimes, always… there is a third choice."

A third choice? Somehow, that didn't seem likely. And what effect would this 'third choice', whatever it was, have on curse-her-friggin-name-Jimena and the other Daughters?

"Jimena?" Serena breathed, practically spitting the name out, as her spectacular eyes narrowed in hateful anger. "She's involved with this? I might have known."

Castrata hurried to assure her mother that Jimena was in no way involved with any of Castrata's doings.

"The self-absorbed, good-for-nothing—wait. What did you say?"

"Jimena isn't involved with any of this." Castrata repeated.

Serena's eyes narrowed. "She better not be."

There was a silent moment. Tension that had been building from the start was now clearly evident.

"And these—Daughters." Serena continued, "It sounds like they're right in Jimena's lap. Worthless. If they haven't the backbone—"

_Crack._ The carpet to the direct left of Serena was blackened and burned. Smoke issued forth in copious amounts.

The string of tension had snapped.

"Don't—you—_dare_—talk—about—my—friends—like—that." Castrata whispered her voice deadly soft.

"They aren't worthy to be called your friends!" Serena hissed. "They have no power, no backbone, no—"

"Didn't you hear me?" Castrata screamed. "Don't! Friends stand up for you, Mom, and are there for you when you need them. Who are you to say that they're bad friends? They're always there for me! Where were you when I needed you? Where have you been? You abandoned me!"

Serena opened her mouth to reply, and closed it again. "You know I had no choice." She whispered tightly, tears shimmering in her spectacular eyes. Almost enough to make Castrata feel guilty about what she had said. Almost.

"You don't even know them, Mom. How can you say they're bad friends? That they aren't powerful? Do you even know their powers?" Her mother was silent. "Lanya controls the weather. She can create little pockets of dry air for us in the pouring rain, or bring a snow in the middle of July to LA. She doesn't even need to move the storms—she creates her own. She can throw lightning; wrap herself in clouds, fly in the wind…

"Jadyn can see the future, the past, and the present at will. Unlike Jimena, she can see whatever she wishes whenever she wishes. She receives visions, as well, but relies mostly on connecting the past and the present. She can look back to the creation of the world, learn the lessons of the past, and connect them to the battles of today. She can see where our enemies are at any given moment…"

"Okay, you've made your point!" Serena gave a slight smile.

Castrata paid no attention. She wasn't done yet.

"Ariasti is a shape-shifter. She can shift into animal form if she wishes, but that's not as useful as human form. However, whenever she wishes, she can shift herself, and any of us, into a bat to fly away. Or, more importantly, she can disguise us from the prying eyes of the Followers. In instants she can make me look exactly like you—voice and all."

"And what is that you do, Castrata?" Serena asked softly.

Castrata looked at the ground. "I don't know," she said finally. "Just when I think I've figured it out, something comes up, and its not the same anymore."

"Like?" Serena prompted.

"Like I thought I had the same mind-reading ability as you. But just now—I fried the carpet. That wasn't a mind-reading ability."

Serena frowned. "No, it wasn't."

"And Dad—Dad thinks that I have no boundaries on my powers…" Castrata trailed off. There was an exceptionally strange look on Serena's face. Something caught between love and denial. And she was looking at something directly over Castrata's shoulder.

Stanton stood in the doorway, wearing the same expression, as he looked at Serena over Castrata's other shoulder.

"Stanton…?" Serena asked hesitantly.

"Serena," Stanton said, his voice husky.

"Mom and Dad?" Castrata raised an eyebrow. The two ignored her. They were wrapped up in the their own little world.

Castrata rolled her eyes and turned her back. They hadn't seen each other in over ten years. The least she could do was give them 30 seconds of privacy.

When Castrata turned back, her parents were still kissing. But something had changed. Outside, the sunny day had vanished, leaving instead a stormy world. Lightning flashed and the lights flickered.

If Castrata's self-imposed boundaries had been down, and she had been able to see in the dark, she would have seen, in that split second, both of her parent's eyes flash open. In her mother's eyes, worry and love. And in her father's…. seduction. Evil and need… and the look of a man succumbing to his inner demons.

There was a choking sound, as the lights flickered back on.

Castrata stared in horror at the scene in front of her. No longer were her parents standing in front of her. Her father was there, clutching in his arms a wraith, transparent, and leaving the world.

"Castrata," the wraith whispered. "There is always a third choice. Always. Find your third choice. I love you…"

And she was gone.

Her father gave an odd sort of howl of a wounded beast and raised his face to Castrata. Castrata thought her heart must have stopped then and there. She saw no recognition in her father's piercing eyes.

Only hate. The need to kill, revenge for the loss of his… mate? The thing that was her father—or her father's inner demons released—gave a wordless snarl and leapt for Castrata's throat.

The lights flickered again.

Someone watching the house would have seen pitch darkness, suddenly thrown out by the explosion of blinding blue-white light.

Castrata stared in wonder at her hands. Issuing forth from them were streams of blue-white light, which wrapped themselves around her body.

Her father snarled again, and Castrata flinched, loosing focus. The protective light was doused immediately. All was darkness.

Slowly, Castrata's eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her father stood before her.

"Daughter."

Did he recognize her? His eyes were no longer those of a beast, yet they were not the comforting blue of her father's.

Then she realized what he had said.

Before she could move, his hands were around her throat, gripping, squeezing. Squeezing the life out of her.

She was no longer Castrata—but a Daughter. And Daughters needed to be killed or turned.

"Look into my eyes…"

_**Come…. come to me….**_

_**Let go….**_

_**Come…. come to me….**_

"No!" Castrata said weakly, fighting to turn. The hand squeezed tighter—she could no longer breathe…

The world was spinning… going dark before her eyes. She didn't want to die… she had a world to save…

She smiled slightly. Couldn't let go….

Come… come to me… 

_**All your troubles will be over….**_

_**Come… come to me…**_

Castrata felt her body going limp. Suddenly, the hand stopped squeezing. Castrata collapsed to the ground. Her father had turned to look at something behind him.

Castrata raised her head slightly to see what he was looking at.

It was her mother.

But Serena had come… come and gone. How was she here now?

Tendrils of wind wrapped around Castrata's waist, lifting her up, and she knew. She could only hope that Ari got away before Stanton realized she was not Serena.

The wind carried Castrata out of the house. She was rapidly loosing consciousness.

A howl of pain and rage barely penetrated the fog of her mind.

Castrata awoke many hours later in an unfamiliar room. No… she knew this place… it was Ari's room.

"What happened?" She gasped.

"Jadyn Saw you. It took us awhile to get there, but you managed okay on your own," Lanya said. "I directed the winds to get Ari in place, and she fooled your Dad into thinking she was that woman. Was she…. was she your mother?"

Castrata nodded, but quickly stopped—the motion was making the world spin.

"Listen, guys. There's something I have to tell you."

And she told them. Everything.

Author's Note: Well, hope you liked the chapter, and the fact that I reviewed…  So, once again, Kudos to Cheyenne…  Now, review, and we'll all be happy! Hopefully, the next chapter will arrive soon…. but I am going on vacation for a week, so it should be right after that…. Luv you all!  (Don't you like smilies…. I like smilies!) 


	11. On The Run

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story, except perhaps the plot and new characters… I am not receiving any profit for this story, except perhaps your wonderful reviews.**

**Author's Note: Sigh. I'm sorry for not updating… but here's this chapter… and please review!!! Hope you like!!!**

They needed a plan. The past week had been dreadful—absolutely and completely dreadful. The day after the visit from Serena, a score of Followers had scourged the city, hunting down Castrata.

The voice was back… always wanting her to succumb. She knew she couldn't—not if this world was to remain as it was.

Castrata decided that she had had quite enough of adventure. All she wanted now was to be left alone. Ha. Fat chance!

She was aware that the Atrox was back, no longer confined to its shadowy form. That was quite evident—as was the fact that he wanted Castrata for his own. She also knew that her own Father no longer was on her side. Her own father wanted her dead. It was kinda depressing.

Actually, to tell the truth, it was more than a little depressing. Castrata had always known that her father was there for her, no matter what. She know longer had any assurances of any kind. For now, she was living with Ariasti, but she knew that that couldn't go on forever. She needed a plan, and she needed one soon.

Tuesday rolled around, and it was time to go to Planet Bang.

"So tell me again why you think its safe for me to go to Planet Bang, a place I'm known to have visited?" Castrata asked sharply, that night as the Daughters began to get ready.

"Well, for starters your father doesn't know you go, so the only Follower who knows you attend is Tymmie. Us Daughters can take Tymmie. Plus, even if they don't know, they won't expect you to be in such an obvious place." Lanya said logically.

Castrata wasn't sure of that. The only thing that kept her from arguing further was the small hope buried deep inside her—that she might see Tymmie tonight.

So she let Ariasti dress her up like a doll in a low-cut, sparkly sapphire tank top and a short, swishy black skirt, coupled with black heels. Ariasti did her eyes with smoky make-up and loaned her a delicate silver key in the shape of a heart, which she tied around her neck with a small black ribbon.

They arrived at Planet Bang quietly, if that was possible. And Castrata continued to hope for Tymmie.

However, by the time the night was half over, he still hadn't shown his face. None of the Followers had—they were probably still searching the city for her. Perhaps Lanya had been right. However, she definitely wouldn't have complained if Tymmie had happened to find his way into Planet Bang.

With a small sigh, Castrata turned to head back to her table. Suddenly, she felt someone tap her shoulder. She felt her muscles tighten in anticipation, and turned to face… Jimena. (A/N: Ha! You thought I was going to say Tymmie, didn't you?)

"What do you want?" She snapped, immediately.

Jimena raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, as if to show that she was weaponless. "Only to tell you this: 'Sometimes, to win means you must Sheathe the Sword in your own flesh. And sometimes, the result is unexpected. Selene promises a Star.'"

"What?" Castrata asked, confused.

"That's my message. Make of it what you will. _I_ certainly have no idea." Her mouth thinned in annoyance. "Good luck." She spat the words and turned on her heal.

Carina raised her eyebrows. She had read a book once that had mentioned the Sheathing of the Sword—but that had referred to the act of letting your opponent strike at you in a swordfight in order to kill him. She certainly had no intention of sword-fighting the Atrox anytime soon. She smiled slightly.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Castrata."

Castrata froze. She knew that voice—she heard it in her dreams at night. It was a voice that made her love and hate its owner…. want him, and want to destroy him and all that he stood for—Tymmie.

"Why?" She asked, keeping her voice perfectly nonchalant.

"Because every Follower currently under the Atrox's power is looking high and low for you—it's a miracle you haven't been caught yet."

Castrata shrugged. "Are you going to turn me in?"

Tymmie smiled slightly. "As a matter of face, I had other plans for the evening—there's a certain blonde I was looking for." The way he looked at her made her know immediately what blonde he was talking about.

"Then I'm not too worried," Castrata smirked, and willingly allowed herself to fall into his arms as the dance became slow. She carefully catalogued his face… knowing that it might very well be the last time she saw him for a very long time.

Author's Note: Well…. I updated! Hoo-rah! Maybe my new years resolution should be to update more often, what say you? ;-) Well… tell me what you think!


	12. The Formation of a Plan

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a few characters and their lives which I spin in a dreadful mess for my own amusement…. and yours of course.**

**Author's Note: Dedication to Shattered Diamonds, and of course, everyone else who reviewed…. it makes me smile! (And I like to smile…. lol) So enjoy, my friends!!**

"The sun'll come out—TOMORROW!! So you gotta hang on till TOMORROW!!" Castrata sang in an off-key voice at the top of her lungs. Who cared? No one could hear her, except of course, the rest of the house… and quite possibly their neighbors… "Just thinking about TOMORR—ouch!" Castrata shrieked as she lost her balance on the slippery shower floor and tumbled to the ground, using the water dial to break her fall.

The water immediately turned red-hot.

"OWWWW!!" Castrata screamed, soap in her eyes, madly scrambling for the dial to return the water to its normal temperature.

The water got hotter. (A/N: Ooooo rhyming!)

"Mother, help me!" Castrata screamed. "OWWWWW!!" She slid her hands up and down the shower wall, well aware of the fact that she would most likely be bruised and blistered from this latest venture. She had very sensitive skin.

Castrata finally reached the dial and succeeded in making the temperature of the water decrease a few degrees. Frustrated, she sat down in the shower and glowered at the shower walls. What was she supposed to do?

"Can't I have a hint?" She asked the silent, unassuming walls of the shower. The walls of her cage. She was a prisoner, a prisoner in this house. A prisoner in her life.

"Can't I have a clue? Some help? _Anything?_" She sobbed in frustration.

FLASHBACK:

_"Sometimes, to win means you must Sheathe the Sword in your own flesh. And sometimes, the result is unexpected. Selene promises a Star."_

RESUME

The talk of swords and sheathes was all very well and good, of course, but she had no idea what it was talking about. Sheathe the Sword? What sword was that? Was it real or figurative?

_Selene, you better be thinking a different kind of sword than I'm thinking… please tell me I'm being stupid! _

Castrata did _not_ want to have sex.

But what else could it mean? Pulling her mind from the gutter, Castrata wracked her brain. Something about the phrase "Sheathe the Sword" seemed vaguely familiar… but what on Earth and Above could it possibly mean?

"Ugh!" She moaned, and pounded her head into the shower wall.

"Castrata?" It was Ariasti. "Are you okay?"

"Define 'okay'," Castrata grumbled, then, catching sight of Ari's hurt face, she added, "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's just… you know." It wasn't much of an explanation, but it softened the blow.

"Is there anything we can do?" It was Lanya, her normally energetic face tired and weary. Behind her, Jadyn stood warily, as if expecting a blow at any moment. Castrata immediately felt bad. Her friends were suffering as much as she was.

_Not _as_ much,_ that little voice inside her head whispered, their_ father's still know them. _Their _father's aren't trying to kill them._

Pushing the voice to the back of her mind, Castrata attempted to concentrate on the important matters. She needed information. But… Sheathe the Sword? And what about that last bit? "Selene promises a Star"… what "Star"?

She suddenly knew what she had to do.

"Jadyn," she whispered, "I need you to get me some information."

"What do you need?" The offer wasn't resigned. If anything, Jadyn seemed glad of something to do. Something that would put them on-track.

Castrata hadn't told the other Daughters about Jimena's message. Part of her knew it was wrong, but her gut instinct screamed against sharing the information. Besides, _she_ was the one Jimena had told. Maybe the others weren't supposed to know.

_What am I thinking? I'm acting like a…a…_a Follower. She was acting like a Follower. Acting like her father.

"No!" Castrata whispered, "No!"

"What?" Ariasti asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Castrata whispered. But despite this realization, she still couldn't bring herself to share the precious information.

"Jadyn—I need you to find a time when Selene's messenger, Jimena or somebody else, relays information about a 'Star'."

"Sure, no problem," Jadyn smiled, "What time period are we looking at?"

Castrata shook her head. "I have no idea."

Jadyn looked confused. "Okay… I'll give it a shot, but I can't make you any promises, Castrata. It might take awhile."

"That's okay," Castrata said, but inwardly she winced. "Just get me that information."

Jadyn nodded, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Lanya, you need to guard Jadyn's body until she's back. You know that whenever she searches through time she's completely vulnerable. Don't let anything happen to her." Lanya nodded, and sat down next to Jadyn, a look of concentration on her face, and lightning already sizzling at her fingertips.

"And me?" Ariasti asked.

"You?" Castrata smiled darkly. "You're coming with me. We're going hunting."

**Author's Note: So... I know those of you who read this even though it's been FOREVER are probably upset with me... :( And I'm sorry! But I have a plan now... and I've even already started the next chapter... :) So review, and I'll post :) Yay! :)**


	13. The Perfect Combination

**Disclaimer: I own nothing… except perhaps my soul… and some ideas. But definitely not Lynne Ewing's masterpiece, which I present to you now :)  
**

**Author's Note: eeeeeeeeeeee!! Aren't you proud of me? I don't believe I've updated this quickly in… forever! But I'm also sad, because none of you reviewed my last chapter! None! Zilch… that's not very encouraging. So this time, after you read, review please! And so...without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen... I give you! **

**THE STORY! :)**

"I don't think this has ever been done," Ariasti whispered as she and Castrata hurried down the dark alleyway, towards their destination.

"I know," Castrata said simply, "but it's necessary."

Castrata had decided that it was time for her and Ariasti to do what was supposed to be impossible. She knew it was dangerous, and it wasn't something that was _done_. The majority of the Daughters who had attempted what they were doing had either been turned, or died.

"It's necessary," Castrata repeated, as if trying to convince herself.

It was New Moon. There was no moon for her to hide behind if their operation went terribly wrong. She was just going to have to hope for the best. Ariasti and Castrata were headed straight into the midst of a Follower Camp.

Camps were areas in the city that, unbeknownst to normal citizens harbored Followers in every building. This one was part of a chain that had established itself in LA. But it wasn't a place that one would normally associate with the Followers. No, this was one of the classier, upscale neighborhoods. This was the home of the highest-ranked Followers—Immortals, and Inner-Circle members.

Their mission was to enter the Follower Camp and find information. Castrata knew that it was nearly impossible for Jadyn to find the information they so desperately needed in such a short span of time. So Castrata and Ariasti were on a mission of necessity.

They had reached a wide-open area. The camp was located a mere hundred feet to their left. Castrata peered out from behind the bush that she and Ariasti were currently inhabiting.

"Ready?" She asked Ariasti, "This is your last chance to go back."

"Go back? What, and leave you here all alone to face the Followers?" Ariasti hissed back.

"The plan doesn't involve any fighting," Castrata answered, "I'll be fine." But she and Ariasti both knew that despite the fact that both hoped there would be no fighting, if they were discovered, there definitely would be.

Ariasti shook her head. "I'm in."

Castrata nodded, approvingly, and began setting their plan into action. "I already did the research. They should be coming at any moment."

By 'they', Castrata meant the two Followers she'd chosen for the job. The Followers in question were both female, Immortal, and powerful. Powerful enough that the extra flow of power coming from the Daughters wouldn't be noticed. Their names were Lizolet and Chantelle, and they had a habit of working together and being secretive. A perfect combination for Castrata and Ariasti.

"Speak of the devil," Ari whispered, as the figures of the two females rounded the corner, approaching the Follower Camp.

One of the Immortals, Chantelle, was tall and willowy, with long, shockingly red hair that always seemed to have a mind of it's own. Her eyes were long-lashed and beautifully hazel, and her features—like that of most Immortals—were perfect.

The other Immortal was smaller, so small and slender, in fact, to appear almost childlike, until one got a good glimpse of her. Lizolet was clearly the leader of the two, with long, incredibly straight dark hair and brilliantly blue eyes. Unlike Castrata's penetrating pale eyes, Lizolet's were deep and mysterious, shining from unseen depths.

_Ready?_ Castrata whispered into Ari's mind. _And… go!_

In an instant, both Daughters leaped out of their hiding place, blocking the path of the Followers. The Immortals came to a quick stop, their gazes assessing the trespassers.

"Don't. Call for help," Castrata whispered. Her voice was as commanding and charismatic as her father's. "Or are you afraid of two nasty little Daughters?"

With a snarl, Chantelle threw her power at Castrata, who ducked, missing death by inches. Lizolet through a bolt of power at Ariasti, who slumped to the ground. Castrata quickly realized the problem with choosing two Immortals on the night of New Moon—the Immortals were exceptionally powerful.

_But you're the daughter of their Prince of the Night_, Castrata reminded herself. _My blood is not weak… I have what they do not._ And she did. Castrata possessed something possessed by no Immortal—hope.

Castrata summoned her power, and the bolt hit Chantelle square between the shoulders. Chantelle hit the ground, motionless.

"You will pay for that, Little Daughter," Lizolet snarled. "And when she wakes up, she will help me do it."

"Do… what?" Castrata asked, moving imperceptibly to get a better angle. She had to wait until Lizolet fired first. A Daughter could not begin the violence. Out of the corner of her eye, Castrata saw Ariasti move. She wasn't down! She was faking…now, if only Castrata could keep Lizolet talking. Or, better yet, fighting.

"This!" Lizolet hissed, and threw all her power behind the one stroke, aimed at Castrata's heart. Castrata quickly aimed one of her own at Lizolet, hitting her, and knocking her out. Lizolet prided herself, as she lost consciousness, that she had at least knocked out that Daughter, as well. But Lizolet had forgotten that Castrata was no ordinary Daughter—but the daughter of the Prince of the Night. Her bolt fizzled out, leaving the night dark once more.

"You okay?" Castrata asked, helping Ari to her feet.

"Yeah," Ari muttered. "You ready?"

Castrata nodded, "I'm letting down my mental barriers right now. Change me quickly, before the Scriers can read me, and discover that we're here. One, two…three!"

Castrata threw her mental barriers down, allowing Ariasti to call her power to life. It was the darkest night of the month, so Ari wasn't in top form, so Castrata knew it would take longer than normal. But Castrata also knew that her presence was enough to refuel the other Daughter.

With what seemed like painstaking slowness, Castrata could sense the changes Ari was making to her body. She felt herself shrinking almost imperceptibly, felt her body growing smaller, thinner. Castrata's hair, already down to the middle of her back, grew to a length that she could have sat on, if she'd tried. The hair was now dark, straight, and Castrata knew that if she'd had a mirror, her eyes would have been a deep blue as well.

Castrata through a glance at Ariasti, who now could no longer be distinguished from Chantelle. Even a DNA scan would have found them identical.

Castrata nodded, and she and Ariasti quickly tied the two Immortals up, gagging them. "I'm going to wipe their memories," Castrata whispered to Ariasti, who nodded, glancing around.

Seconds later, they stood in front of the Follower Camp. It was surrounded by a tall, stone fence, and bolted with a large, obviously expensive, iron gate. The plaque nearby deceptively read, "Heatherwood Estates".

"And here we go…" Ariasti whispered, as they approached the gate together. They both swiped their hands through the DNA scanner, and watched as the tall gates slowly swung open.

They were inside the Follower Camp.

**Author's Note: Duh, duh, duh, duuuuummmmm… wow! :) Review please! I promise, if you review, I will continue to update in a speedy manner! :)**


	14. The Illusion

**Disclaimer: I am not Lynne Ewing, nor do I own any of her magnificent ideas.**

**Author's Note: Yay! Another update! I really am trying…. please enjoy! This one may be slightly shorter… but I'm trying to update quicker, so hopefully that works :) R&R everyone! This one is for Cheyenne... :)  
**

They were inside the Follower Camp.

The outside gate had been deceptive. As soon as the gate closed behind them, the scene shifted and the illusion faded away. Gone were the rows upon rows of huge houses. Gone were the carefully manicured lawns and landscaped front yards. Instead, Castrata and Ariasti found themselves on the top of a huge hill, overlooking a large valley. Inside the valley, Castrata could see the huge, expensive houses, and the Follower's stores that catered to their needs. But the streets were twisted, turning, and unusual. The entire valley was an enormous maze.

Streets twisted this way and that, and from their vantage point on the hill, Castrata could vaguely discern where the center of the maze was. It was miles away, twinkling brilliantly in the starless night.

Starless night? Castrata frowned. There was no moon tonight, but despite that she had seen hundreds of stars in the air just minutes ago, before she'd walked in the gate.

They were in the middle of another illusion.

Castrata swore under her breath. They were going to have to temporarily disable the illusion, so that they could at least tell where they were going. For all she and Ariasti knew, they were inside the Atrox's home this very minute. Crap.

Carefully, she reached her mind out to Ariasti's. _Ari, what do you see?_

Ari glanced at her. _Why? A huge ocean, stretching out for miles with an island in the center… but how are we going to get there?_

Castrata shook her head. The fact that they were both seeing separate things meant that the illusion wasn't of the highest quality, which was definitely a good thing for both of them. _Well I see a huge maze, the center of which is miles away. It's an illusion. I'm going to need your help to break it._

_Can you do that? _Ari wanted to know. Castrata nodded. _Okay, _Ariasti thought, _what do you need me to do?_

_Just lean on me with your strength, _Castrata said, _give me something to hold onto if the illusion becomes too much. _

Ariasti nodded her consent.

_Close your eyes,_ Castrata commanded, and Ariasti did.

Quickly, Castrata closed her own eyes and let her mind drift. Now that she was concentrating, she could feel the cobwebs of magic in her mind—the illusion doing its work. She frowned. What to do? She could easily sweep the cobwebs out, effectively destroying the illusion, but she knew that was only in a worst-case scenario. If she disabled the illusion completely, the Followers would know something was up. And that was last thing she wanted.

Carefully, Castrata concentrated. There had to be a way to distance oneself from the illusion, otherwise the Followers would have the same problem. Suddenly, an idea came to her. Meticulously, she slid a fine sheet of her own magic between the illusion and herself, effectively blocking out the power of the illusion. There. It was still present, but it would not effect her. Quickly, she did the same to Ariasti.

_Okay, you can open your eyes now._

Castrata and Ariasti opened their eyes in unison. The place they saw was nothing like either of the previous illusions. The houses were large, yes, but they didn't look like they belonged in a suburb. These houses were old mansions, dark and foreboding. The streets turned this way and that at odd angles, as if to mock the idea of a maze, but everything was well-ordered. And silent.

Why was everything silent?

Castrata turned her head this way and that, trying to see beyond the dense shadows that inhabited the night. The thought crossed her mind that the shadows were really Immortals, and she stiffened, before remembering that she was Lizolet, and that if there were Followers nearby, she would have sensed them.

_How are you?_ She asked Ariasti.

_Fine, _Ariasti answered, _but this place gives me the creeps!_

Castrata privately agreed, but didn't say anything. Now was the time to follow through with their plan. They had to find one of the Follower hang-outs, and then try to get some information out of them.

Suddenly, a shadow descended from the air, materializing next to them. It was Tymmie.

**Author's Note: Hoo-ray! Now review please! :)  
**


	15. Once And For All

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Not even Stanton. Certainly not Tymmie. :(**

**Author's Note: :) And yet another update! … but no reviews! I cannot tell you how much this saddens me, because it really doesn't take all that much time to locate the little blue button at the bottom of the page, and submit a few sentences stating your admiration of me and my writing… lol. But seriously, no reviews depress me, and then I get writers block… just when you thought I was doing so good at updating regularly! :)**

Suddenly, a shadow descended from the air, materializing next to them. It was Tymmie.

"Tymmie! What are you doing here?" Castrata's voice came out in a rush.

Tymmie paused, confusion flashing through his eyes. And suddenly, Castrata realized her mistake. While those words might be perfectly natural for Castrata to say, she was _not_ Castrata. Or, at least she wasn't supposed to be. She was Lizolet. And she had not acted like Lizolet.

"Is there a reason I _shouldn't_ be here, my dear Lizolet?" his voice was filled with false flattery, but behind the resentful façade, Castrata sensed a struggle.

"We were just wondering what you were doing here," Ariasti whispered in Chantelle's voice, "when you're supposed to be working on those Daughters."

Tymmie's features twisted for a fraction of a second. "I've been pulled off of duty on the Daughters, as you know perfectly well, Chantelle. After all, you two are the one's who've been assigned my spot."

Castrata froze for a fraction of a second. Tymmie was no longer actively searching out the Daughters? What had he done wrong? _His feelings got in the way_, that nasty little voice inside of her said, _it's your fault he got switched jobs. __No! If anything, I did him a favor—that's not the kind of job anybody should have anyways_, the sensible side of her argued back.

Castrata shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts. And then she realized what a brilliant jewel of information Tymmie had just handed them.

"Of course, Tymmie, you've said that before. And, in fact, you're just the person we were looking for, isn't he, Chantelle?" Castrata added, because Ariasti was giving her a 'what-the-heck-are-you-doing' look.

"Of course, of course," Ariasti nodded, just barely concealing the confusion Castrata knew she was feeling.

"What do you want from me?" Tymmie asked, resigned.

"We need to know what progress is being made on the Daughters," Castrata said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Don't leave anything out—we don't want to try something that's obviously a failure."

Tymmie looked annoyed, but made no further comment as he began. "It's complicated," he stated. "The majority of the problems that you will encounter with these Daughters are completely different from those you'd encounter with other Daughters." He paused, waited for 'Lizolet's' nod, and continued. "They're far more powerful than we're used to—in different ways. We've been having trouble determining just how far their powers extend—both individually, and in terms of their group's sheer strength."

Castrata narrowed her eyes, knowing that it was perfectly acceptable to do so—the grimace of distaste was certainly just as characteristic of Lizolet as it was of Castrata.

"Why?" Ariasti demanded, making Chantelle's hazel eyes flash menacingly.

"You don't know?" Tymmie looked slightly taken aback, "why should I tell you?" He demanded, his face going hard, "you're the ones who have taken over for my job."

"Because I asked them to." The voice was even, calm and deadly.

It was a voice Castrata was only too familiar with.

"Stanton?" Tymmie asked, nervously. "I wasn't aware you were involved with this lovely transfer of jobs." His voice somehow managed the degree of respect required, while still seeming menacing and betrayed.

And it was true, Castrata realized—the Followers had alliances within their own ranks. Her father and Tymmie had been allies, and Tymmie now felt betrayed that Stanton had removed Tymmie from his high-power job.

"Relax, Tymmie," Stanton said calmly, as if his thoughts had followed the same pattern as Castrata's. "I have not done anything rash." His mouth curved up slightly in an ironic sneer. "I had nothing to do with your re-assignment. However," he continued, "as Prince of the Night, I have a right and a need to know all the assignments of my Followers. Do you not agree?" The words were phrased as a question, but it could not be more clear to Castrata that the menace had been more apparent in the last sentence than any of the previous ones.

"Of course," Tymmie murmered, with a slight bowing of his head.

Stanton turned to Castrata, who had a second of utter terror at the thought of being recognized, before realizing that he was merely looking to Lizolet for a report.

"We have nothing new to report, Prince," she murmered. "As you well know, Chantelle and I have not been on the job long. We currently are re-tracing the paths Tymmie has tread while we try to find new ones of our own."

Stanton nodded absently. "And what do you need to know?"

Castrata hesitated, licking her lips. This was the moment—it was now or never. "We're missing what we believe could be some vital information. We require more knowledge about Selene—so as to better understand the powers her Daughters may possess."

Stanton nodded. "Excellent. You have my permission to continue your search." He paused, and then, "I've told the archive rooms to remain open," he gestured vaguely in the direction of a huge stone building Castrata assumed held the archives, "You will be allowed to search the records tonight, and tonight only." He paused again, and smiled, revealing what appeared to be pointed teeth. "Tomorrow, you will be needed. Tomorrow night is the night."

"The night for what?" Ariasti asked, before Castrata could stop her.

Stanton looked disgusted, "God, Chantelle, don't you know anything?" His penetrating glare turned on the one person in the world it didn't impact—Castrata. "Lizolet—you haven't told her yet?"

Castrata shook her head. But as she carefully concealed all her thoughts, she did what she knew Lizolet would do—she whispered into Stanton's mind. _And do you blame me?_

His silent laugh echoed through her mind. It was all the answer she needed.

Stanton turned to Ariasti. "Tomorrow night is the night the Atrox has been waiting for for decades. Tomorrow night," he paused for effect, "Is the night of the New Moon."

Ariasti/Chantelle frowned. "But I thought tonight was the New Moon."

Stanton sighed with impatience. "It is, Chantelle, and so is tomorrow night. It's a rare phenomenan, and happens only once every few centuries. It's the time that the Atrox has the most power, because not only do the Daughters not expect it—but it is also the darkest the Earth ever becomes. The day Followers have the most power. And tomorrow…" he trailed off.

"Tomorrow?" Tymmie asked eagerly. Castrata could tell that Tymmie was already being caught up in the bloodlust of the entire event.

Stanton smiled, a cold, chilling smile that left his eyes dead. "Tomorrow we kill the Daughters. Once and for all."

**Author's Note: Reviews please! Mucho love to all of you! :)**


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